Out of the Ashes
by LydiaofNarnia
Summary: In the middle of high school, Rebecca Crosser's main concerns are getting ahead of her dyslexia, keeping up with her best friend, and taking care of her dysfunctional father. She never asked to meet a mysterious, fascinating boy named Isaac Lahey. She never asked to become wrapped up in a world where the supernatural is real. But she has, and now she knows- there's no way out.
1. Umbrella

**Ashes- originally titled "Luminous"**

**Started on April 4, 2014**

**Completed on August 28, 2014**

**Summary: "Maybe in the end we are all made up of nothing more than ashes and coals." Isaac/OC, begins just before Season 2.**

**Disclaimer: And this goes for the whole story- I don't own anything aside from Rebecca, Jade, and whatever else you don't recognize. Isaac, Scott, Stiles and the pack belong to Jeff Davis and MTV. I'm going to try to be delving a bit deeper into the TW mythology in this story, as well as adding some layers of my own, because I just find it so fascinating, so... gear up. I'll try to update as often as I can.**

**Extended Summary: In the middle of her sophomore year of high school, Rebecca Crosser's main concerns are getting ahead of her dyslexia, keeping up with her lively best friend, and taking care of her dysfunctional father. She never asked to meet a mysterious, fascinating boy named Isaac Lahey, she never asked to become wrapped up in a world where werewolves are real and lizard monsters stalk the streets at night, she never asked to discover old family secrets that are probably better off staying hidden. But she has, and now she knows there's no way out- so, all that she can really do is just keep swimming and hope that she doesn't end up dead.**

_I'm running, and even though I have no idea where I'm going, all I know is that I've got to save him. Smoke_

_clouds my vision, causing me to stumble over something I am unable to see. I feel the heat of the fire_

_pressing up behind me, causing the skin on my back to blister and burn, and desperately I call out his name once more. He has to hear me. I've got to find him. I have to._

_I wonder suddenly if I'm the only one left- maybe it's just me. Are people dead? Of course they are; I don't_

_see any way for us all to have survived this. But he isn't dead. He can't be. Somehow, if he were dead then I_

_would know. I would be able to feel it._

_Suddenly he's there, only about twenty feet away from me, and I feel my body inexplicably freeze up. I see_

_him scream my name, and he's running towards me but somehow he isn't getting any closer. The dull roar_

_in my ears turns into a full-on wail as the wall of fire seems to close in on me again, and then I can't see_

_him anymore._

_I'm running again, but something smells bitter and sick, and my hands and arms and legs and face burn. I'm lit up like a Christmas tree, and I catch sight of one strand of my hair as I run. It's on fire. It's burning. I'm burning._

_I'm burning._

_I can't run any longer. My legs give out and I fall to the ground, a crumbling pillar of flame. I can hear_

_his voice echoing in my ears, screaming my name, and a wail like the howl of a wolf follows me into_

_darkness..._

xXxXxXxXx

Or into light.

When I'm suddenly jolted awake from my nightmare, it's to find the fire alarms wailing. My first, half-awake instinct is to propel myself out of my bed, and I stumble towards to doorway to immediately be accosted by the sharp smell of smoke. Something is burning, alright, but it sure isn't me. Rushing out of my bedroom and descending down the stairs, the thick black smoke filling the hallway and kitchen quickly makes the issue evident.

"Dad!" I call up the stairway, pressing a dishtowel over my face as I tug open the door to the backyard in

order to allow the smothering smoke accumulating in the kitchen to escape. "Breakfast is burning!"

My dad thunders down the stairs in his usual rushed early-morning fashion. He's a comical sight if I ever saw one, standing in the doorway, his graying hair tousled and his face covered in white foam. He's still clutching his shaver in his hand as he surveys the mess that was our kitchen with a dismayed look on his face. "Breakfast is burning?" he echoes, sounding as if someone- namely me- had just kicked his puppy.

"Breakfast is charcoal," I correct myself, using the spatula to poke at the charred remains of what I have to

assume used to be pancakes. "A noble endeavor, but ultimately a failed one."

Dad sighs heavily, leaning against the doorframe. "Wonderful."

"It is for me, actually," I remark, shooing some more smoke out the door and placing the scorched pan in

the sink. The culprit quickly becomes evident- he hadn't greased the pan. No matter how often I remind

him to grease the pan- that is, at least once each time he steps near a stove- he hardly ever remembers to

actually do it. My dad really is not the best cook. He does try, much to his credit- he tries a lot. I know that

he feels bad about leaving me to make the meals so often, even though I really never mind it. It's fun for

me, making something out of almost nothing. I can usually manage to choke down whatever he makes me

without complaint, but something tells me that trying to eat this meal would be a virtual suicide attempt. Dad frowns at my words and I continue. "I had a dream that I was on fire this morning."

The casual way I state this makes Dad raise his eyebrows in what I could nearly call amusement. "That

sounds fun."

"Extremely," I retort, opening up the wooden cabinet above the sink as Dad sits himself down at the kitchen

table. "Especially the part where I'm _pretty sure _I died." I specifically choose to omit the part about Dream- Me's frantic efforts to save the strange boy who, apparently, I was madly in love with. I figure that if it's

bizarre to me, then there isn't any point in sharing it with Dad. "So, what'll it be?" I ask, reaching up to

finger the familiar box. "Cereal, cereal, or cereal?"

Dad smirks, and I can tell that he knows exactly what I was trying to do. I can never stand seeing him upset. "Is there anything else available?"

"Yes," I reply, gesturing to the burnt pan. "That."

"Well, Madame Chef, in that case, I'm going to have to go with cereal."

I smile as I grab two bowls from the dish rack and pour the colorful flakes in the bowl. This cereal's dad's

favorite more than mine, so I make sure that I give him a bit extra. I add the milk and turn to the silverware

drawer only to find, to my dismay, that most of our cutlery is sitting in the sink, unwashed. "Okay," I say,

shutting the drawers. "We're out of spoons today, so we're going to have to improvise. Free for all."

He sighs as I set his bowl in front of him and take the seat adjacent to him. "I really am sorry, Becca. I just

wanted to make you a nice breakfast for once."

I roll my eyes, raising my bowl to my lips and swallowing a mouthful before I speak. "Dad, come on.

It's really okay. I leave the house without breakfast often enough anyway, I really don't care. Besides," I

grin, "I kind of like eating cereal like this. It's like... it's like..." I trail off, my smile turning into a grimace as

I realize I really have no idea what I can compare this to. I wince slightly, but I'm distracted by dad patting my hand.

"And you don't have to try and make me feel better about it. I screwed up, and now I'm going to make you

late for school."

I raise my eyebrows. "Dad. Seriously. It's only six-thirty. I don't have to get out the door until at least seven

if I want to catch the bus, and I very frequently leave five minutes after that. I'm not going to be late for

school."

We don't talk much after that; even with the early excitement of this morning, as the adrenaline begins to

go down, my body starts to really realize the hour- and I'm sure the fact that I stayed up until one in the

morning last night finishing a paper for English isn't helping matters much either. By the end of breakfast,

I'm slumped over the table, my eyes boring into the faded wallpaper in an attempt to stay awake.

Dad taps my hand, and I jump about a foot. "Go get dressed," he says, nodding to the clock, and I nod

dazedly before rising to my feet.

Upstairs, I begin my normal morning routine- clothes first, my trusty pair of jeans and a purple top my best

friend Jade got me for my birthday last month. My pajamas are folded in less than a minute and replaced neatly in my drawer, because I absolutely cannot stand a messy room. My hair takes a bit more effort; not that I can ever actually do anything with it, that is. Gazing blankly into the mirror, I study my reflection. My skin, as usual, is pale, and my round face still holds my typical early-morning zombie expression, while about half of my hair has fallen out of its messy bedtime-bun and arranged itself wildly around my face. The only thing different here from most mornings are my eyes. They're still the typical cloudy blue-grey they've

always been, but this morning they're framed by dark circles- a clear sign on my lack of sleep. Jade is going

to throw a fit when she sees me; she can't stand it when she looks anything less than perfect, and apparently

that goes for me as well.

I pull my hair out of my bun and grab a comb from the table, haphazardly dragging it through my dark

blonde hair. Of course, this doesn't do much- my hair is unmanageable on my best days, and this definitely

isn't one of my best days. With a sigh, I pull back my hair into a lazy ponytail and study my reflection in

the mirror. Ugh.

Well, taking into account the fact that I don't look too much like I slept in these clothes last night, I decide

that I look acceptable enough to be seen in public. I take a quick minute to brush my teeth and then, with one last mournful glance at my bed, I'm thundering down the stairs again.

My dad is still at the kitchen table when I get down there, and he watches in mild amusement as I run

around like a headless chicken for about two minutes before I finally locate my old Converse sneakers

under the kitchen table. They're ratty and practically falling apart by now, but these sneakers have been

with me ever since freshman year (I've somehow never managed to outgrow them) and I do not leave the

house without them. My bag on my shoulder, I kiss Dad goodbye and am just about to step out the back door when his quiet voice stops me.

"It's today, you know."

_Oh._

It hits me like a truck. Dad's melancholy, his quietness, the way he's seemed so distracted all morning- it's

all because of today. Of course it is, how could I have missed it before?

Today is the day we go to see Mom.

"Oh," I say quietly, suddenly ashamed at how easily I had allowed myself to forget. "Right.

What time are we leaving?"

I definitely don't expect Dad to sigh, running his hand over his face. "That's the thing, sweetie," he says. "I

can't go today. I have to stay late at work, and I won't be home until eight."

"Eight?" I exclaim, a hollow sort of feeling settling in the pit of my stomach as I stare at my dad. "Are you

kidding? You- you can't just not go visit Mom! I mean, Dad, it's her _birthday_! How can you not..."I trail off as it slowly dawns on me what I'm going to have to do. "Oh. You want me to go alone."

Dad nods, looking regretful, and a frown flickers across my face before I quickly push it away, replacing it

with a blank expression. "Sure. No problem."

Dad raises his eyebrows. "Are you sure? I hate to leave you out there all alone-"

"Dad, I'll be fine," I say firmly, shaking my head. Mister Lahey, the caretaker of the cemetery, sort of gives

me the creeps, but I know from experience that you hardly ever see him. A half an hour, sitting by Mom's grave- yeah, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine. I don't hate cemeteries as much as a lot of people do. After all, they're just corpses. Corpses are one of the few things in this world that can't hurt you.

He sighs again. "If you're sure..."

"Of course I am." I run back, giving him one last kiss on the cheek. "Now, I understand how much you love

my company, but I have to catch the bus, or else I am going to be _late_."

As I head out the door, I swear I can hear Dad sigh again, but even though I want to I don't turn around.

Okay, at this point I think I ought to explain something about my dad. I love him to death, seriously. He's

raised me on his own since I was eight, and we couldn't be closer. My dad is a very... focused individual,

and in his life he mainly throws himself into two things; his work and me.

My dad is the way he is. It's the way he always has been, and the way he always will be. I still think he's a bit depressed about Mom, to be honest. He just sort of... hasn't ever let her go. I can't understand the way he feels, not really- my mom and I were close, but she and Dad were high school sweethearts. Their romance was legendary- like out of an old Hollywood movie. Mom was the love of Dad's life...

So, yeah, I guess Dad is kind of... out there when it comes to Mom. I don't blame him, though. At all. I

think that when you love someone- like really, really love someone, like Dad did Mom- they never leave

you, ever.

The bus ride to school is as short and chaotic as it's ever been, and like everyday I manage to slam my head

on the seat in front of me more than once. I take the bus because it's easy, and that's the only reason. While I technically have my license, I rarely, if ever, drive- both because my Dad's jeep is way too hard to manage, and also because I hate it. So, for me, the bus is the way to go. That, of course, isn't to say it's always- or ever- a pleasant ride. By the time I step off the bus I already have a headache, and it isn't helped when Jade immediately seizes me by the hand, and drags me through the doors of the school with a terrifying flavor of pure glee lighting up her face.

Jade and I have been best friends since we were kids, and as the top of her class in English I can't even

begin to describe what a major help she's always been to me. She is really and truly my best friend. My...

extremely hyper, overly fashion conscious and slightly bewildering best friend.

"Happy Valentine's day, Bec!" she beams as soon as we get to our lockers, and I blink in surprise.

Valentine's Day? Today? It takes me a minute to realize- right, it's February fourteenth. My mom's birthday. That's Valentine's Day. Jade, of course, notices the look on my face and her expression shifts to one of incredulity. "You're kidding," she says slowly. "You actually forgot."

I shrug helplessly. "Hey, I got precisely four and a half hours of sleep last night, and I also kind of forgot my Mom's birthday. You'll have to forgive me on this one."

Jade studies me a moment, her face blank, before she sighs slowly. "Oh my god, you are just absolutely

impossible sometimes. Seriously, if you didn't have me, you'd just run right off a cliff."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, and you'd probably just dive off of one for kicks."

She considers this a moment, rolling her eyes. "Oh, come on, give me _some _credit here. As if I would ever be so recklessly irresponsible- oh my god, you _actually_ wore the top I got you!"

Jade takes a moment to spaz out over the shirt I'm wearing, and I take the opportunity to survey exactly

what she's wearing in return. Jade, as usual, looks like she just stepped off the cover of Vogue or Covergirl-

those are fashion magazines, right? She, as opposed to me, always takes great care to put a huge amount

of actual effort into her appearance before stepping out of the house every morning. Today she's chosen a

pretty blue dress which shows off a fair amount of her legs, and a blue stone hanging on a golden necklace

stands out starkly against her dark skin. In short, we basically look like polar opposites. Jade's a bit

obsessed with how she looks, but she has a right to be- she's gorgeous, and I'm not shy about admitting it.

She's all smooth midnight brown skin and sharp curves, as opposed to my... umm... well, my _not_ would be

putting it a bit too gently.

"Admit it," she grins, leaning against her locker. "I was right. It looks good on you."

I turn my head to the side, shrugging my shoulders. "I'm not saying a word."

"Admit it!"

Quite frankly I have no idea whether it looks good on me or not. But Jade is the resident fashion expert, so

if she says that it looks good, then it more than likely does. "Okay. It looks good."

She grins. "Yes, it does, and I knew it would. That is exactly why I picked it out for you."

"Sure, darling," I smirk at her, and she huffs in annoyance. "Anyway, how was your big Valentine's Day

date with Daniel last night?"

"It's a date with Daniel, how do you think it went?"

I snort, nearly dropping my history textbook. Quickly glancing around to make sure that no one noticed,

I slip my book into my bag before nodding. "Okay, fair enough. Hey, guess what went up in smoke at my

house today?"

Jade sighs. "Again?"

"Yeah. However, it got me out of a bad dream, so I'm not complaining."

Her eyebrows rise. "Ooh, you had a bad dream? Me too. What was yours about?"

I shrug. "Some boy, I guess."

Jade's eyes narrow, and she grins wickedly. "Don't tell me, you have a crush on a dream boy now? How

fascinating."

Instead of arguing, I simply shove her lightly and slam my locker shut. "Okay princess, homeroom." Jade

pouts, crossing her arms in front of her chest like an unhappy child. The only classes that Jade and I have

together this year, besides gym, are English and Algebra, and this is a point of endless anguish for the both

of us. Jade gets lonely without me to constantly pass notes to, and having my best friend in all my classes

would definitely help me out a lot. But there really isn't any point arguing with the school over something

so trivial, so we leave it at that.

"Remember," Jade whispers just as we're parting ways, "that top looks great on you. Flaunt it." Instead of

asking her exactly how in hell you're supposed to flaunt a top without sticking out your chest and looking

like you're about to fold over backwards- something which I know for a fact Jade knows nothing about for despite all her beauty she is agonizingly flat-chested- I simply nod and smile. Sometimes, with the more... fashion conscious, nodding and smiling is the best thing you can do.

The rest of the day pretty much proceeds as normally as can be expected. Algebra is hell, English is hell,

History is hell, Biology is hell- so, yeah, not much new.

In Chemistry we take notes, which is particularly awful for me. Mr. Harris is writing things down on the

board, and I feel like I'm drowning the entire class.

At one point- where I'm squinting at the board and, admittedly, nearly running my notebook through with

my pen- Danny has to nudge me to bring me back to earth. "Hey," he whispers. "You okay?"

I blink to clear my head. "Uhh... yeah, I'm fine."

Danny's brow knits in concern. "Are you sure? I could take notes for you for a bit, if you want..." He casts a

glance towards my own notebook, the entire page covered in barely legible writing, and I self-consciously

cover it up with my sleeve.

I shake my head. "No, it- it's okay. Thanks, though."

Danny's really, really nice. He doesn't quite understand- not like Jade does- but he at least tries, which is

more than I can say for most kids at this school- and lots of the teachers, for that matter. But he doesn't

realize that I've got to do this myself. If I don't work my way through it, I'll never improve.

Here's the thing about dyslexia- it isn't a disease. You can't cure it, and this is something I've always

accepted ever since I was diagnosed when I was nine. But it doesn't have to hold me back, either. If I

constantly work hard, then I can improve. I can maybe one day even read and write just as well as any

of my other classmates, if I just work at it. I do work at it; every single day, every chance I get I work on

pushing myself, improving my mind- and I'm not going to let a little headache hold me back.

I push through the rest of Chemistry, and manage to make it out with almost two full pages of just-legible

notes and only a minor headache- a pretty firm achievement in my book.

All day long, anytime I see her, Jade can't keep her mouth shut about the upcoming formal. She already

has a date, of course- and a dress, and the perfect hairstyle. I'm happy to hear her so excited about it, but so

much talk does make me a bit uncomfortable- mainly because I'm not going. Even though Dad is usually

dead tired when he gets home from work, he promised that on Friday we would actually do something

together- spend a night in, just me and him. I can't remember the last time that we've really done that, not

since he started working overtime, and there is no way I'm cancelling on him to go to some stupid formal

that I probably won't even enjoy. This is something I haven't told Jade yet, because I'm pretty sure that if

I did she would physically attack me. I'm just... not a dance person. Besides, it isn't like anyone would ask

me anyway. Jade gets dates because she's pretty, fairly popular and super outgoing. And, like I said, I'm...

not.

Jade's Jade- she's perfect, she's funny and she's smart. Meanwhile, I'm just... Rebecca. I'm just average

me.

Between my classes and all the buzz about the formal, I don't actually get a chance to think about visiting

Mom until I'm on the bus heading home. The school bus is as chaotic as ever, and I hunch in my seat in

my usual effort to block out the noise. Chaos is not my strong suit. At all. That's the reason that I keep my

room, bag and locker so obsessively neat; I just cannot stand messes.

I don't really let myself fret over visiting Mom, although I'm pretty sure that this mostly stems from my

sheer stubbornness in being unwilling to admit to myself that I am a little uncertain about going to the

cemetery today. I've been visiting the cemetery with Dad ever since I was about ten, and for nearly all of

these visits it's just been him, me and Mom- that's it, that's the constant formula. That never changes. I've never gone to see Mom alone before.

By the time I get to the cemetery, a fresh bouquet of purple flowers under my arm, it's nearly four o'clock.

The cemetery is basically deserted, and I step through the gates slowly, glancing around me uneasily. Somehow it feels as if I'm being watched from all sides; that's no different from how I usually feel in the

cemetery, but it feels a lot different when I'm actually alone. I take a deep breath, steel my nerves, and

resolve to hopefully get this visit done with as soon as possible. A half hour. No big deal.

You know how earlier, I said that I didn't hate cemeteries? Well, I don't, but that doesn't make me a big

fan of them. Actually, I don't like cemeteries much. At all. Don't get me wrong, Beacon Hills Cemetery is

a pretty nice place, if one disregards all the dead bodies everywhere. I mean, it's always really clean, and

it's actually kind of a pleasant place to just sit and think for a while, as I've learned from my numerous

visits here- it's nice and quiet. But every time I come here it always makes me feel sort of uneasy; almost

as if I'm trespassing on ground that doesn't belong to me. This land belongs to the dead, and every time I

visit here I can't help but feel like I'm violating that a bit.

This unease, combined with the fact that the dark clouds hanging over the late-afternoon sky seem to

indicate a serious storm pretty soon in the future, only serves to persuade me further to keep the visit with

Mom short.

I weave my way through the rows of gravestones, almost effortlessly following a path ingrained in my head

from years of visits. I don't stop until I come upon the one grave that I don't feel any anxiety standing over,

and I sink to my knees, my smile serving as a wordless greeting in case somewhere, somehow, she might

be watching.

"Happy birthday, Mom," I murmur, running my fingers over the letters that have been carved in the cool, smooth marble of my mother's headstone. The words are more than familiar to me, but I force myself to read them out anyway: _Jennifer Crosser. Died age twenty-seven. 1974-2002. Beloved daughter, wife, mother. _

That's my mom. Except no one ever called her Jennifer. She was always Jennie.

Silently, I sit back on the dirt ground and face the headstone. Mom's headstone is simple- she wanted it that

way. It's just a simple, thick marble slab with the top rounded off, sticking proudly up from the ground.

The name Crosser is inscribed in bold letters at the center, just under the intricate carving of a rose. On one

side is my mom. The other side is reserved for my dad, whenever he elects to join her- not for a long, long

time.

"Dad can't come today," I whisper, my voice barely rising above the late-winter wind as it blows through

the graveyard, stirring the dead leaves on the ground. "He's working; you know him. Sorry, it's just, um,

me today..."

I sit in silence for a moment, suddenly unsure of what exactly to say. I have no idea what to say to fill the silence. We've never been the type of people who pray to our loved ones, Dad and I- even though I think he does that, too. Dad always talks to Mom whenever he comes here, and he encourages me to do the same. It's easy with Dad here, but without him…I'm not sure why I find this so hard. I think that, maybe, I just don't know exactly what to say to her. Or it could be that the whole idea of talking to a slab of granite just seems a bit… silly to me. I've never really been good at talking to things that can't answer back. I, quite frankly, don't even know if Mom can hear me right now; all I know is that if I died, I wouldn't spend my eternal afterlife hanging around my grave waiting for my family to come talk to me once a year or so. I'd never say so to Dad's face, though. I know exactly how much these visits mean to him.

I grit my teeth, silently cursing myself for being such an idiot. Why is it that when I need to find words the

most, I always seem to come up empty? It's almost humorous in a way, because when I'm at home with Dad it seems like I can never shut up- yet when words are really needed, my mind draws a complete blank.

The topic seems to spill out of my mouth- it's the first thing that pops into my head. "The, um, formal is

coming up this week. I don't think I'm going to go. Jade won't shut up about it. She just lives for events like these. Me… not so much." I laugh quietly. "I'd much rather hang out at home- practice my singing, or watch a movie… maybe work on my reading…" I'm quickly running dry, and I lapse into silence again after the final word. What else is there to say? Not much has really happened in a month.

Suddenly, I'm struck with an idea, and my face lights up as I dig around in my shoulder bag. After a

moment of pulling open different flaps, I pull out a slightly thick, hardcover book. A small smile stretches

itself across my face and I lean back against Mom's gravestone with a sigh. Of course. Why didn't I think

of it before? I'll just read to her.

I wasn't diagnosed with dyslexia until I was nine, a few years after Mom died. Even so, I can't even begin

to say how much she helped me during those early years- "crucial time", apparently, where I didn't even

understand what was wrong with me. All I knew was that I wasn't doing well in school; I couldn't spell, I

couldn't read, and I thought that I was a complete idiot. Dad didn't really know how to react. It was Mom

who understood back then, Mom who helped me, Mom who got me in the habit of working on my reading

every day. Mom pushed me in those early years to work hard and do better, and without her I know how

much harder it would have been for me. She was the one who convinced me that I wasn't just stupid or

lazy; she convinced me that I could improve. I like to read to her, sometimes, when I visit here. I know that

she would be proud of me.

"This is a new one," I say, keeping my voice quiet. "It's kind of advanced for me- I don't understand some

of it, but I work through it." I grin and pick up the book, examining the cover. "Pride and… Pre- preced-

Prejudice. Pride and Prejudice, by Jane… Jane Austen."

And I read. My soft, uncertain voice mixes with the wind to create an odd almost-song, and after a while,

the quiet hissing of the wind and the slow drone of my own words eventually lull me into a state of calm.

These are the times I actually like to be in the cemetery- these are the times when I just actually like to

be on my own in general. The times when I don't have to think about anything, when I'm allowed to just

sit and be myself to myself without worrying about having to take care of anyone, like with Dad, or be

the voice of reason, like with Jade. Especially when it's with Mom. Mom doesn't demand anything; she

doesn't ask, she doesn't order, and whether that's because she's really not there I don't know, but I still

cherish these moments "with my mom" anyway.

I'm so deep into the book that I probably wouldn't have noticed that I wasn't alone had I not gotten stuck

on this one word. This foolish, disagreeable, stupid little word that I've never heard in my life, and which

my brain scrambles to the point that I don't even have any idea what I'm looking at anymore. "Elizabeth

Bennet had been… obliged…" I read, "by the…. by the sare- by the _sacare_…. by the _sca-ri-ticy_…" Pausing

in my reading, my head tilted upwards, my brain is pulled from the book just enough for me to register the

presence of eyes on the back of my neck. Slowly, slowly I turn to look at the unwelcome newcomer. And

that's when I see him.

Behind a row of gravestones, probably just about seven feet away, some kid dressed all in black is standing

there and watching me.

It's freaky, to be sure, and I jump away with a muttered exclamation of "crap!" But it would be even

creepier if he were a total stranger. Here's the thing- he isn't. This isn't the first time I've ever seen him.

I've noticed him at the cemetery before- I'm pretty sure he works for Mr. Lahey or something. He's in my

some of my classes, too, Chemistry and French and probably more that I just don't remember. He's one of

_those_ kids- the ones that sit at the back of the class, who hardly ever speak- you know the type.

I hadn't ever given him a second thought before, but looking at him now the only thing I can think is

how absurdly unsettling that is; some random kid watching you in the cemetery while you're sitting by a

gravestone reading. I'm lying there in the dirt, staring wide eyed up at him and thinking that he's a total

creeper, just as it occurs to me that he's probably thinking the exact same thing. For one second, my eyes

meet his- his face takes on a look of alarm- and he's gone.

To the kid's credit, he doesn't run. I know that if I had been caught creeping on someone in a graveyard,

I'd be hightailing it on out of there. And, he is… only doing it just slow enough as to maintain at least some

scrap of dignity. He's more power-walking, like the sort of walk you'd do in the hallways if you're trying

to avoid bumping in to someone you really don't want to talk to, and I watch him until he's well across the

other side of the graveyard before I finally feel safe enough to turn my attention back to what I was doing.

"Wow, _that_ was shockingly creepy," I murmur, shaking my head in a derisive manner in an effort to

maintain the illusion of composure that I'm not even close to feeling. The hairs on the back of my neck are

standing up a bit, but other than being a bit shaken I'm otherwise fine, so with one wary glance back the

way the boy had vanished I simply turn my attention back to the novel and continue reading.

And, you know what? To hell with the word _scarcity_. Who uses that word, anyway? How am I supposed to

know how to read it, let alone pronounce it?

I ignore that one problem word and continue on with the story.

I'm not aware of anything for a long while after that; that is, at least until, while bent intently over my

book, I suddenly feel a large drop of rain splatter right on the back of my head. Then another. And then

another. I jump, and I'm suddenly scrambling around like an idiot to put my book in my bag before it really

begins to pour.

"Ah, crap!" I exclaim, fumbling with the zipper of my bag in order to conceal everything within from the

elements. It's then that, purely by chance, I look back over to where Lahey's lackey boy had been standing

just fifteen minutes before, and my eyes widen in surprise.

Because, in the exact same spot that the boy had been watching me now lies a navy blue umbrella.

Eyes wide, I hesitantly crawl over to where the umbrella is sitting, reach out and grab it, weighing it in my

hands as the rain continues to fall around me in a light drizzle. He must have dropped it when he made his

escape, I realize. He dropped it and now his umbrella- along with me- will be sitting out all alone in the

rain.

The umbrella, which up close I can now see is pretty old and beginning to rust a bit, is already coated with

a fair layer of mud. It will probably be ruined if I just leave it sitting in the dirt.

It's only then that I fully seem to realize that I'm sitting in a muddy cemetery while it's raining, holding a

closed umbrella in my hands like an idiot and getting soaked in the process. Slightly sheepish, I open up

the umbrella and use it to shield me from the weather just as it really begins to pour. My fingers graze my mother's name one final time; an unspoken farewell.

I feel a bit bad about simply abducting the boy's umbrella, but I quell my conscience with the promise that

I'll return it tomorrow at school. After all, he had simply left it there, and I, as a concerned citizen, had

picked up the umbrella and, upon recognizing the owner, resolved to bring it back to him tomorrow.

By the time I reach the cemetery gates, I feel more than confident that tomorrow I'll be able to simply

return the umbrella to it's rightful owner and leave that at that. It was an honest mistake after all, him

forgetting it. It could happen to anyone. I didn't steal it, and, I mean, it isn't like he left it on purpose- Did he?

No. He couldn't have. Why would he?

Shaking my head slightly, I leave the cemetery gates behind me and head off towards my house.


	2. Isaac

The next day at school, with the mystery umbrella safely tucked away in my locker, I don't waste any time in filling Jade in on what happened at the cemetery. As usual, Jade isn't at all shy about saying exactly what she thinks.

"That's creepy," she proclaims as she opens up her locker, not bothering to turn away from me as she removes her books and places them in her bag. "Like, seriously, seriously creepy. The kid was just watching you the entire time?"

I shrug, clutching my Biology textbook to my chest as I lean against my locker, attempting to look casual. "Umm, yeah... pretty much."

"That's creepy!" Jade reiterates her previous statement with even more passion, slamming her locker shut and feigning a shudder. "I mean, were you freaked out? I would be _so_ freaked out."

"I was, I guess- I mean, he did really startle me. But it isn't like he tried to hit me over the head with a brick- he was just standing there-"

"And then he gave you an umbrella."

"No, he dropped the umbrella," I correct her. "I really doubt that he meant to actually give me an umbrella. In fact, he's probably going out of his mind looking for it."

Jade frowns, leaning against her locker and absently studying the people passing by us. "The question is," she murmurs, "what would Isaac Lahey want with you?"

My eyebrows shoot up towards my hairline. "Whoa!" I exclaim, my voice coming out somewhere between a laugh and a squeak. "Hold on, it wasn't- it- It wasn't Lahey, it was the boy!" Trust me, if Mr. Lahey was stalking me from behind headstones then we would have a whole other problem on our hands- one most likely involving the police.

"No, no, not- what?" Jade's brow creases as she takes a moment to comprehend my words. Suddenly her face shifts in to one of absolute horror. "Ew! Oh my gosh, no, he's like, what, sixty?! Gross, no." While I'm silently dying of laughter, she takes a moment to compose herself before speaking again. "I _meant_ the son- Isaac." At my blank look, Jade's eyes widen incredulously. "Are you serious? He's in, like, four of your classes."

I blink, frowning. Umbrella Boy was creepy Mr. Lahey's son? "I didn't know Mr. Lahey had a son," I say quietly, causing Jade to snort.

"Well, it's not like he talks much. He's in my Econ class. On the lacrosse team, too. Smart enough kid, I guess, but he hardly ever says a word."

"Well... that's all well and good, I guess, but why would Isaac Lahey be watching me in the cemetery?"

Jade shrugs and shakes her head, causing her flowered headband to slip forward. With an annoyed huff, she repositions it in her short black hair just as the warning bell sounds, echoing through the halls. "I don't know," she sighs, glancing over her shoulder towards her homeroom in a manner that suggests that she'd like nothing more than to stay and chat about this all day. "But give it back," she advises solemnly. "You don't know. It could explode."

I snort. "It's not going to explode!

"We do not know that!"

xXxXxXxXx

I'm pretty sure that the umbrella probably isn't going to explode.

Probably.

Staring at Isaac Lahey sitting two rows behind me in French, I can't help but think that he really doesn't look like the type of kid to wire a bomb inside of an umbrella. Besides the total ridiculousness of the entire idea, the thing about Isaac is that he just looks so... normal. I mean, he definitely isn't the sort of kid to cause a commotion in class- in fact, hunched over his desk in his baggy dark blue sweatshirt, he honestly looks as if he would like nothing more than to just fade into the wall.

He isn't looking at me; he very carefully isn't looking at me, even though I can tell that he knows that I'm watching him.

This is, honestly, the first time that I've ever really taken the opportunity to really look at him. His hair is a mess of light brown curls bordering almost on a dark blonde; his skin is pale and a bit pasty; he's not muscular, but he's clearly strong enough in a lanky way, which I guess must work well for him on the lacrosse field. However, by far the most striking thing about him is his eyes; these cool, smooth pools of crystal blue which I swear are almost mesmerizing. He has such deep blue eyes; deep blue eyes that I abruptly realize are focusing very intently on his paper, and it suddenly strikes my that I've been flat out staring at the poor kid for the past five minutes. I can feel my face coloring as I turn away from him and back to Ms. Morrell. I bite my lip, frowning down at my blank paper. So far today, I've accomplished nothing with Isaac Lahey aside from affirming what I suspect is already his opinion of me; a creepy girl who reads to gravestones in the rain and awkwardly stares at innocent teenagers when all they're trying to do is listen to a French lesson. Such a _great _first impression. When he sees me coming towards him with his umbrella, I wouldn't be surprised if he starts running the other way.

I still need to talk to him. No matter how creepy I might have come off as, I've still got to figure out a way to approach him without spooking him and give the stupid umbrella back to him, just to be done with the whole thing.

I, of course, do end up getting my chance- in History that day.

"Alright," announces Mr. Westover once the class's usual buzzing has died down. "Today, we are going to be beginning a project on the topic of the numerous achievements of the Aztecs. I know that you're all excited for the upcoming formal, so this shouldn't be a very difficult project to complete. I don't want a paper, I don't want a slideshow- I'm looking for something physical, something lifelike." Despite my dismay at a new project, I breathe a sigh of relief at this. Hands-on. I can do that. I'm good at that. "This is due Friday." He walks over to the chalkboard and quickly writes out two words in large print; two words that cause my heart to sink to my stomach.

"This," he says, "is a partner project. This is not optional. You've got to work with someone."

I furrow my brow, my apprehension clear on my face. I'm not the only one, either- little Erica Reyes, who sits two seats across from me, seems equally distressed, and we exchange dismayed looks. This is just great. Of course it would have to be a partner project, and it would have to be in a class that I don't have Jade by my side in, because the universe just plain hates me. Anytime I have a partner project, no matter how much I try to smile and act like everything's great about it, I can never ignore that look that comes into my group members' eyes when I sit down next to them; the look that plainly says 'oh great, we have to put up with the dyslexic girl.' As if I won't pull my weight or something. And, to be honest, that has the tendency to really, really turn you off group projects. And the worst thing is, I _have_ to get a good grade on this project. I literally do not have a choice. My History grade is bad enough as it is, and working alone I would have no problem. But having to deal with someone else...

"You will be working on this in class," Mr. Westover continues, but barely anyone is listening anymore. "Discuss, plan it out, bring it in on Friday." There's a short, tense silence in which he slowly turns and sits down at his desk. We're all waiting for that one word- the signal to move.

Finally, it comes. "Find a partner and get to work."

The second that these words leave his lips, the entire room breaks into pandemonium. People scramble over each other to stake out their partners, and in less than thirty seconds the entire class is scattered about the room in small pairs. There are only three people still sitting alone- me, Erica Reyes, and-

Oh, merciful bleeding Christ.

It's him, of course, because who else would it be? Jade said that he kept to himself. He didn't have anyone to partner up with either, of course he didn't.

Erica looks over at me with something akin to hope shining in her eyes, and for one glorious moment I think that she's going to ask me to partner up- but then, of course, the teacher has to interfere.

"Rebecca, you can partner with Mr. Lahey over there- oh, Erica, you're without a partner too. You can join up with Megan and Alexander, in that case." Looking reluctant, Erica heads over to sit with two kids who don't seem any happier to have her in their group than she does to be there, and with a sigh I scoop up my stuff and sit down in the desk right next to Umbrella Boy himself.

At least he's looking at me now, which is certainly a step up. Isaac's eyes are wide as I sit down, staring at me with an expression that I can't read. But the first thing I automatically notice- he doesn't look upset or apprehensive to work with me. At all. That same look that I've become so familiar with over the years is completely absent in Isaac Lahey's eyes, and it comes as a jolt of surprise to me. Well, then, Umbrella Boy- ten points for you. However, studying his expression a bit more, another thing that is painfully clear arises; he looks expectant. _He's waiting for me to say something._

I panic. What else can I do? I'm not a people person. What do I do, how do I look at him, what do I say- do I say _anything?_

"Hi." I don't realize I've spoken until the word has actually left my lips.

"Uhh... hi," he replies, glancing nervously down at his notebook and then back up at me as if he can't decide what to look at. It's the first time that I've actually heard his voice. It certainly is an interesting voice; soft, quiet in a way that almost makes one think that he's scared of being heard- but a very, very nice voice.

"I, uhh- saw you yesterday. At the cemetery." I curse myself for my timing as he instantly turns down to his paper again, with finality this time. It feels almost like a door closing in my face. I mean, this is literally the first time I've ever spoken to this guy, and yet somehow I've already managed to incorporate cemeteries into the conversation. _This_ is why I don't talk to people.

Isaac, meanwhile, is suddenly very interested in studying a half finished doodle in his notebook, and he seems to shrink into his baggy sweatshirt as he replies. "Oh, umm, yeah…"

I mentally scold myself. There is no way that I am going to allow myself to screw things up with this kid- at least not while I have to work with him on this project. I'm going to have to talk to him eventually. Why not start with this? I mean, this way I can also assure that Isaac isn't a total stalker- which is always nice. I force myself to take a deep breath. This shouldn't be any different for me than talking to anyone else- like my dad, or Jade. Just… say anything.

"You work at the cemetery, right? For your dad?"

Well, great, now he's going to think that _I'm _a stalker.

He nods. "Yeah."

He is so clearly not into this conversation that it's almost painful, and I silently urge myself to just change the subject, or even better yet, _shut my stupid mouth_… but, as usual, I'm not very good at taking my own advice.

"I- I'm not really sure what you were doing, but it seemed like you were sort of watching me, or..."

His pale face turns an odd shade of pink. "Oh, yeah. I just- I'm really sorry, it's just, I heard you, and you were just sitting there reading… I can't really explain it… I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry..."

"Oh, no," His obvious embarrassment on the topic makes me laugh suddenly in spite of myself, and his face takes on a bewildered look. "You didn't scare me- I mean, you startled me a bit. You were standing behind me dressed in all black, like something straight out of a slasher film… freaked me out a bit, yeah, but that's it." I'm genuinely smiling now, my anxiety slowly melting away as I realize that Isaac was exactly as freaked out by the encounter as I was. I probably even frightened him more than he did me! "No, I seriously get it- I mean, you see a random girl reading to a headstone, you'll want to investigate. It's fine, don't be sorry." The corners of Isaac's mouth turn up a bit, and I wonder if I've actually managed to break his shell too.

"No, it's not that creepy," he says. "Actually, we get a lot of people who do stuff like that- I guess it's the same as leaving flowers, sort of. Who were you..." Isaac trails off suddenly, looking embarrassed. My eyes widen as I realize why.

"Oh, um, my mom."

"I'm sorry," he says, looking truly remorseful. "I didn't mean to..."

"No, it's alright. It was a while ago, so... it's fine."

He takes a deep breath, turning towards his textbook. "Okay. So- project."

"Oh!" I exclaim. "Uhh, actually, one last thing about yesterday- you sort of left something back there." He glances at me sharply, eyes wide, and his reaction startles me a bit. "An umbrella?"

"You found it?" He gasps, and his face lights up as if I've just informed him that it's his birthday. It isn't a happy light, though, because he isn't smiling- more like relief. He must have really been looking for that umbrella, and suddenly I feel guilty for taking it.

"Uhh, yeah- I got caught in the rain, and I saw it, and it was getting all ruined, and since I recognized you from school I just thought that I'd-"

"Do you have it?" He asks eagerly, leaning towards me with an almost desperate gleam in his eyes. "Here? Today? With you?"

"I brought it to school today," I nod.

Isaac exhales a breath that I hadn't realized that he had been holding, and a massive amount of tension seems to melt away from him at once. "Thank god," he sighs, dropping his head for a moment.

"I'm sorry," I say, my brow furrowing in concern over how unnaturally happy this kid is over a dumb umbrella. "Were you looking for it a lot?"

"Oh," he says suddenly, glancing up as if just realizing that I was still there. "No, I didn't get the chance to yesterday- I mean, I was freaking out over it. I should be more responsible than that." He reaches out his hands towards me, and his face is eager. "Can I- can I have-"

"It's in my locker," I say. "You can come by anytime today, and I'll just give it to you."

"Thank you," he says, and he really smiles this time- a big, genuine smile that makes my heart jump for a second because really, his smile is stunning. "Seriously, thank you so much."

Suddenly I feel shy, and I have no idea why. "It's fine, really. I just- it's fine."

He turns back to his textbook, a close-lipped smile still on his face, and opens it to the middle of the book. "Oh- right."

I reach for my bag but Isaac is already flipping to the correct page and pushing the book in between us. "Chapter twenty-three," he says, "Achievements of Ancient Rome."

I stare at the bright blue lettering at the top of the page, my eyes glossing over it unseeingly. "Anything in this chapter catch your eye for a project?"

He ponders the book for a moment, flipping between the pages before his eyes come to rest on one particular paragraph. He points to it, turning back to me. "Romans invented the alphabet."

I frown. "Yeah- fun, I guess. Didn't they also invent… public welf… wefl…" I trail off, my eyes widening almost imperceptibly. I felt heat rushing to my face and I quickly ducked my head so that Isaac wouldn't be able to see my face. No, no, this can't happen now. I'm not sure why, but all of a sudden I _really_ don't want Isaac to know about my dyslexia.

"Public welfare?" he suggests, and I nod, gritting my teeth in frustration at not being able to pronounce such a simple word. _Welfare_. I know that one. I ought to know it.

"Yeah, that." Glancing up, I find to my relief that he's still focused on the page and not on me. "They invented public welfare, and…" I squint at the book. "And the Latin language."

The next half hour we spend in relative harmony. _Working on the project_, today, is basically just us spitballing ideas for what to feature in our slideshow, and actually requires very little work on our part at all. Isaac, once you get past the outer layer of shyness, is actually surprisingly good conversation and we find that we have more in common than we had thought; we both love Mexican food, we're into Harry Potter, we both share a mutual hatred for science and algebra, we both firmly agree that Spiderman is _way_ better than Batman but that the X-Men trump them both, we're both sort of quiet, and we both absolutely _despise _group projects.

When we part at the end of class, I'm in better spirits than I've been in weeks, and it lasts me throughout the entire day. At lunch, Jade is quick to notice.

"What's with you?" She asks, a grin playing on her face as I sit down across from her at our usual table at lunch. Alarmed at her question, I gracelessly allow my tray to slip out of my hands. Next to me, with the lightning quick reflexes only an athlete can possess, Kyle's hand shoots out and grabs the slipping end of my tray, carefully setting it down on the table. My face coloring, I do the same.

"Wow, Becca," he grins. "You're clumsier than usual today."

"Sorry," I sigh, shooting him a grateful look. Looking back over at Jade, I can see that she's smirking, and I frown at her.

"That wouldn't have anything to do with a certain boy with a blue umbrella, now, would it?" She asks wryly. My face colors and Kyle snorts before once again being engaged by Daniel, Jade's boyfriend, on the subject of the lacrosse practice this afternoon.

"No," I hiss, keeping my voice low in an attempt to keep anyone else at our table from overhearing. Around us, our table is as busy as it is every other day, and to my relief it doesn't seem like anyone is paying much attention to us. Scarlett, all the way at the far end of the table, has her reading glasses on and her nose buried in a book; Averie and Holly are gossiping about whatever the subject is today; Lee is staring at Kyle as if he's the best thing since French fries, all while trying to maintain the pretense that he's listening to what the two other boys are chatting about despite the fact that he could not care about lacrosse in the slightest; and Kayla is staring off into space, chewing on a lock of red hair instead of her lunch. These are the same people we eat lunch with every day; and even though I don't talk to most of them outside of lunch, these are the people whom I consider friends. Turning my attention back to Jade, I see she still has a knowing smirk on her face.

"Come on, you've had two classes with him today. Spill."

I sigh, a tiny smile appearing on my own face. "Guess who's doing their history project with Isaac Lahey?"

Jade squeals, her hands flying to her mouth. She almost flips her lunch tray over and most of the eyes at our table turn to us. I roll my eyes. "_Jade_!"

"Oh." My best friend glances around the table at the rest of her friends, all watching her with amusement. "Sorry, guys."

Averie spins around to face us, her dark hair flying behind her and accidentally hits Holly in the face, who simply bats it away good-naturedly with a secret roll of her eyes at me. Holly and Averie's relationship is a lot like me and Jade's; sometimes I wish that I talked to Holly a bit more. "What did Rebecca do now?" Averie asks brightly, and Jade simply shrugs.

"I'd tell you, but I don't think that Rebecca would approve..." She trails off, casting a glance towards me. Averie pouts.

"Oh, come on Becca, you aren't keeping secrets again?"

"Not keeping secrets," I reply. "I'm only keeping quiet."

"This wouldn't be about the history project, would it?" I glance up sharply and Averie grins. "Gotcha." I had forgotten that both Averie and Holly were in History class with me; they were probably doing the project together. Of course they would know all about me and Isaac working together.

Jade, a ravenous glint in her eyes, spins towards Averie. "Well, since she won't spill, you tell me. Tell me _everything_."

Ohh no.

Averie smirks. "Well, she and Isaac sure were chatting a lot during class, and from the looks of it most of that talk wasn't so much about our History project..." she trails off, raising her eyebrows at me suggestively, and I sigh in defeat.

"He's actually really, really nice, would you believe it? I mean- he's sort of shy when you first talk to him, kind of skittish, a bit awkward..." Averie quickly appears to be losing interest, so I change tactics. "But he's really funny. And we have a lot in common. So, yeah, we talked a lot.

A funny look comes over Jade's face, and I frown as I turn to her. "What?"

"Do you think he likes you?"

"What?!"

"Do you think he likes you?" Suddenly she's very, very focused, leaning in towards me, her eyes boring into mine as if she's trying to see straight into my soul. I, meanwhile, and just completely blindsided. "Do you think," she continues, "that he's going to ask you to the formal?"

My face quickly falls into a blank mask of exasperation, and Holly snorts into her Pepsi. "You... really want me to get a date to the formal, don't you?" I ask flatly, mentally trying to asses exactly how many times we've already had this conversation.

"Yes," she replies immediately. "Yes, I do. No way is my bestest friend in the world going to the formal alone."

"_Bestest_ isn't a word."

"It is now, and you need a date."

"You know, I heard from Lucy Alednos this morning that Jackson Whittemore doesn't have anyone yet," Averie chirps. "Holly doesn't have a date, and I've been working _around the clock _to get her one," She adds, popping a piece of gum into her mouth and offering one to each of us. "If Lee would just shut up and take her already..."

Lee glances over at us suddenly, his hazel eyes wide. "What?"

"Nothing, idiot." Averie rolls her eyes and Lee glares at her before returning to his onesided admiration of Kyle. The only person who looks even mildly alarmed by their bickering is Scarlett; but she quickly returns to her book. Holly sighs, leaning on her elbow.

"Ave, I already told you, I'm not going to the dance." 

"You have to!" Averie exclaims. "You can't just not go!"

"Dances really aren't my thing."

I see my opening and I go for it, realizing that I may never get another chance. Besides, I know that Jade is less likely to murder me with so many witnesses. "Uhh, yeah- me neither. Actually, I don't really think I'll be going to the dance either."

I wasn't really expecting my words to have as much of an effect as they do. Jade's jaw drops. Averie falls silent, blue eyes wide. No one speaks for a good full minute, and when Jade finally does, her words are barely more than a whisper.

"Are. You. _Serious_."

I laugh nervously, noticing the rest of the table's eyes slowly begin to turn to us, the conspicuous absence of our table's resident chatterboxes becoming more noticeable with each second that ticks by. "No, I'm Remus," I quip. Holly and Kyle are the only ones who smirk at my joke. The rest of the table just seems engrossed in the show. And I would be too, I guess, if I weren't currently the one in mortal peril; if Jade were legally allowed to reach across the table and throttle me, I swear that I'd be dead already.

I swallow nervously, gnawing on a French fry, and wonder exactly when the lunch period ends.

xXxXxXx

"You've got to go to the dance. You've got to."

"I'm not going to the dance," I reply, slamming my locker shut. I can hear the dread in my voice, and If it's evident to me I mentally wince at how I must sound to Jade. Sure enough, she doesn't look impressed.

I managed to put this off all day, until the final bell rang signaling the end of the day. I don't know how, but I did. However, now I'm cornered, and I quickly realize that I won't be getting out of this one as easily.

Still, let it never be said that I went down without a fight. "Jade, I really can't do this now, I have to go... get something from the Music room."

She puts her hands on her hips. 'What?"

"Umm... I forgot my notebook."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, totally, and I really need it. For homework. So, I've got to..." I began to slowly back away, but a soft "ahem" from Jade stops me in my tracks. Not that I had expected that to work, anyway.

"Forgetting something?" She asks, raising her eyebrows. I frown, causing her to roll her eyes. "You." she jabs me in the chest with one perfectly manicured fingernail. "No had Music today. Yeah?"

I sigh, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm not two years old."

"Then stop acting like you are and tell me why you won't go to the formal."

Leaning against my locker, I hunch my shoulders and shrug. "You know I don't like stuff like that, Jade," I say quietly, studying the cover of the textbook in my arms. "I'm just... not a formal person."

Jade frowns, tilting her head sympathetically as she places a hand on my shoulder. "Hey- it isn't that you don't have a date, right? because I can get you a date, I'd have no problem- I mean, Kyle's taken obviously, but he does have a brother-"

"The freshman?"

"Yeah, but he's fifteen."

I sigh in exasperation, rolling my eyes and pushing away from my locker and her hand. "No, Jade, I'm not going with Kyle's freshman brother. I'm not going, period. I'm planning something with my dad that day."

"But you've got to go!" Jade exclaims. "I'm already going with Daniel, Averie's going with her boyfriend, whatsisname, and Holly's probably getting a date any day now. You've got to go!"

In a last ditch effort to change the subject, I abruptly switch topics. "Daniel already asked you?"

Jade clearly attempts to stay on subject, but the mention of her boyfriend is too much for her, and her face lights up with a grin. "Yes," she gushes, smiling in that way that she only does when talking about Daniel. "And," she practically sings, "you know who doesn't have a date?" The mildly wicked glint in her eye tells me everything I need to know, but I play along for my own sake.

"Oh, wow, I couldn't possibly guess..."

"Lydia Martin!" Jade exclaims, very pointedly ignoring my sarcasm-laced tone. "Meaning Lydia Martin, the so-called 'most popular girl in school' is currently dateless, and _my _boyfriend is taking _me_ to the formal!" Suddenly, it's almost as if something in her head physically drags her back to the former topic, and she rounds on me again. "Which is exactly why you are getting a date, and you _are_ going! I mean, it's not like you couldn't _get _a date- you have plenty of good qualities! You have to go! You _are_ going!"

I grit my teeth in frustration. Jade has never really been good about knowing how to quit, and sometimes it can become grating. Like, seriously, seriously grating. "I'm _not_!"

"Why not?" Jade whines, pouting in a way that could almost be comical.

"I _don't- like- formals_. Never have, never will. This is not a difficult concept." It's very rare that I actually get frustrated with Jade. Typically I can handle her flightiness pretty well, but sometimes the fact that she and I are practically polar opposites does tend to shine through. This is one of those times.

Still, Jade isn't used to being snapped at like that from me, and she draws back in surprise, her brow creasing. I can see that she's hurt, and I feel a pang of regret. I study her sternly for another couple of seconds before sighing. "Hey, sorry, okay?"

"If I was really annoying you then you only had to say so," she murmurs softly, biting her lip and pretending to fiddle with the silver peace sign hanging around her neck. "I didn't mean to piss you off."

"You didn't-" I begin before abruptly cutting myself off. We don't lie to each other, that's the one thing that Jade and I never do. We respect each other too much. "I just don't want to go, okay?" I sigh, turning my gaze towards the floor. "I don't care if Jackson Whittemore himself saunters up and asks me right now, nothing would change my mind about this. This Friday I'm sitting home with my dad and that's that, and pestering me about it isn't going to do anyone any good. So, stop."

She sighs. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to."

"No." I shake my head. "It's fine, okay? Let's just... not talk about it anymore. It's fine."

Jade nods her head, and as she slowly unwinds her necklace from around her hand she seems to brighten in a way that doesn't seem entirely sincere. "Wanna walk out together?"

I nod, crouching down and placing my bag on the ground. "Hold on, just let me put these-" I open the bag up and slip my textbooks inside when my eyes notice something unusual. In my bag, there are approximately three notebooks and one textbook, not counting the two I just slipped in right now. That's three notebooks, one for History, the shared one for Biology and Chemistry, and the one for English.

This wouldn't be at all unusual, except for one thing- I usually have four notebooks in my bag at the end of the day. My French notebook is missing, and I have a pretty good idea of where I left it last.

"Oh god," I murmur. Jade crouches down next to me, frowning. "You know, I actually think I need to run back to the Art room for a bit. Go on without me, alright?"

Jade lets out a bark of laughter. "Seriously? You _actually_ left your notebook behind?"

I roll my eyes, swinging my bag over my shoulder and straightening up. "Shut up."

"Call me tonight!" Jade calls as I start to retreat down the hallway, and I nod over my shoulder at her, waving. I pretend not to notice the slight frown on her face, but it only serves as a confirmation that she was a bit more hurt by me snapping at her than she let on. Making my way down the staircase to where some of the lesser used classrooms such as the Art and Music rooms are located, I sigh. I know she'll get over it- I mean, she's Jade, of course she will- but it still doesn't give me a good feeling, leaving her while knowing that I've hurt her feelings somehow. I mean, she's my best friend. I'm always uncomfortable when anything is less than alright between us.

I'm so preoccupied with my thoughts of Jade as I head down the hallway that I literally do not notice the one hundred and forty seven pounds of pale skin and fragile bones in full lacrosse gear hurtling towards me down the hallway, clearly as distracted as I am, until it's far to late to dodge. The impact sends me flying backwards with a sharp cry, and I land on my back with a pained gasp.

"Ah, god!" I exclaim, slowly sitting up to face the lacrosse player, who is, annoyingly, still on his feet. Well, I try to exclaim- the fact that I've just literally had all the air knocked out of my lungs makes my attempt come out as more of a strangled gasping. The kid is still sort of running, stumbling along down the hallway even as he turns back to me.

"Sorry, sorry, that was not supposed to happen, sorry!" The voice sparks something in my head, and looking past the mask I'm able to make out a familiar face.

It's Stiles Stilinski, a kid who's ended up in most of my classes for the past two years. He backtracks towards me to offer me his hand but I brush him off, pulling myself to my feet and ignoring the painful throbbing in my back. I'm definitely going to have a pretty brutal bruise back there for the next few days, but I'm just grateful that I didn't hit my head. Over the initial shock, my expression quickly shifts to one of bewildered annoyance. "Stiles, what the hell?"

Stiles, having finally stopped his mad dash, is now panting, giving me the impression that he's actually been running for quite some time. "Late for practice- Coach hates it when we're late."

"Would he rather you end up killing someone than be late for practice?" I raise my eyebrows with a frown, noticing Stiles's anxious glance over his shoulder at the mention of Coach Finstock. At my words, he turns towards me with a mild expression.

"Yes. He would. In fact, I'm pretty sure that's something he's actually resorted to once or twice."

I take a second to consider this statement. Coach Finstock. Crazy Coach Finstock. Yeah, I can believe that.

"Oh," I say, my eyes widening a bit at the image of our Coach and Economics teacher standing over a smoking pile of corpses. "Okay. Go, then, before you end up part of his body count."

With one last gasp of air Stiles nods, shooting me a grateful look before taking off again. "Thanks, Rebecca!" he calls over his shoulder, clumsily waving at me while he's running. "Really sorry!" He's around the corner and out of sight before I get the chance to reply, and I shake my head in bewilderment.

Is it bad to say that I had absolutely no idea that Stiles was on the lacrosse team? I mean, I've only actually been to one or two of the games, but still... huh. Maybe I really should start paying attention to others more.

Brushing off a piece of dust clinging to my jeans from my brief meeting with the floor, I refocus my thoughts back to the Art room, and more specifically my poor notebook sitting there all alone and vulnerable. The thought that just any random person could simply pick it up and get a good look at all my horrific, barely legible chicken scratch makes me wince, and I set off again, unconsciously doubling my pace.

My thoughts are beginning to wander to Jade once more when a sudden beeping emanating from my pocket alerts me that I have a text message. Frowning slightly- Jade has her own personal tone for whenever she texts me- I pull out my phone and examine the message.

_"Hey did u talk to jade? say u are coming to the formal?"_

It takes me a minute to realize that it's from Averie, and I exhale in frustration. I really don't feel like starting this conversation again. I simply text back in reply, "_No, im not going_," and hope to god that she won't reply again.

Of course, luck is never, ever on my side, and she text back almost immediately. Averie can type on a tiny phone keypad faster than anyone I've ever met. "_Aww, come on! U have to go. U can go with holly, shes still free!_"

I roll my eyes, and as I round the corner I begin to text back something final before I shut off my phone, ending the whole debacle for good. "_Averie I am not going to-_"

However, this is as far as I get before my phone is sent flying out of my hand as yet another monster lacrosse player streaking through the hallway whams into me, flinging me back to the ground again and sending me a good five feet down the hallway for good measure.

Oh, _come on_.

You know, Jade wants to go on and on about all my good qualities, something really ought to be said for my resilience. The fact that I'm still getting up after all these hits is nothing short of superhuman.

"Are you actually- _why_?" I gasp, still flat on the ground, but once again it just comes out as a choked coughing. However, unlike Stiles, who had been going too fast to manage to slow down after impacting me, this second attacker literally slams himself into a wall in order to stop himself and is almost instantly by my side, stuttering frantic apologies all the while.

"Oh man- I'm so sorry, I swear, I didn't mean to- I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry. Are you okay?"

Now successfully off my back and feeling no small amount of pride over the fact, I brush my hair out of my face, totally dazed. There's a nasty throbbing in my already injured back, this time I'm pretty sure that I actually did manage to hit my head, and it's still a bit difficult to take in breath, but I'm still alive. "Uhh... bleeding internally in multiple places, but otherwise fine, I think." Turning my head slightly, I finally manage to get a good look at my attacker and blink several times at his pale, almost horrified expression and the alarmed look in his blue eyes. Blue eyes that I instantly recognize.

"Oh- hey Isaac." I'm almost amused by how I manage to sound as if I've just run into him at the mall instead of literally being run over by him.

Until this point I don't think he had recognized me either, and his already wide eyes get even bigger. "Rebecca- I swear, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry. I just, I couldn't see-" He turns his head to glance back at something, and looking over I see lacrosse equipment scattered throughout the hallway. Clearly my phone and I weren't the only things to go flying when we collided. And no wonder we hit, too- with me on my phone and Isaac's lacrosse equipment obscuring his vision, it was practically a recipe for disaster.

"Hey-" I say, laying a hand on his shoulder, and his head snaps over to it. "It- it's okay, really. I'm fine. This is just literally the second time that this has happened today-" He's still staring at my hand, his face having morphed to something akin to shock, and gently I remove it and use the wall to brace me as I pull myself to my feet. "Here," I say, as- with, I will admit, a slight amount of assistance from Isaac, I'm successfully standing once more. He still seems to be in some sort of daze so I grab his hand and squeeze it in my own. Just as I had hoped he would, he seems to snap out of it. "See? I'm fine," I tell him as I gently pull away from his hand.

"You aren't hurt?" He asks slowly, and I shake my head, doing my best to ignore the way the room tilts slightly as I do so.

"No, of course I'm not. It's fine, okay?"

Slowly, his breathing seems to be returning to normal, and color seems to be flowing back into his cheeks. Relieved, I lean more heavily against the wall. "I'm sorry," he says again, shaking his head. "I'm like, ten minutes late for lacrosse practice."

"I hear the coach doesn't like it when people are late." A tiny smile crosses his face, and I do my best to return it.

"What were you doing down here?" He asks, his brow furrowing. "There usually isn't anyone down here this late."

"Forgot my French notebook," I reply a bit sheepishly. I'm more expecting him to laugh at my idiocy than anything else. That's why I'm surprised when, at the words "_French notebook_," Isaac's face lights up and he quickly dart over to his bag lying a few feet away.

"You mean," he asks, digging around for a moment before withdrawing and brandishing a sky blue notebook, "this?"

I gasp. "My notebook? How-"

"I saw it on your desk after you left Art last period," he offers with a tiny grin. "I thought I could probably get it back to you, but then I couldn't find you."

"Oh my gosh, thank you!" I exclaim, taking the notebook as he holds it out to me and squeezing it to my chest. "Thank you so much! I was freaking out, worried that someone was-" I cut myself off abruptly. If I said, "worried that someone was looking through it," then he would want to know why, and I can't have that. I had thought that I was long past feeling ashamed of my dyslexia- that's why I just don't understand why I feel so different about it around Isaac. "I was worried someone would take it," I finish lamely, clenching my jaw. Luckily, he doesn't seem to notice, or at least I'm pretty sure that he doesn't. The way his eyes flicker towards me for a second before returning to normal again unnerves me, but I don't say anything and neither does he.

"I guess we're even now, then," he quips lightly, and I smirk.

"I guess we are."

We walk out together. I'm not much of a talker and Isaac's almost as silent as I am, so we spend most of our trip in companionable silence until we step out into the bright sunlight. "See you tomorrow?" I call as he begins to make his way over to the lacrosse field where I can see the rest of the team gathered, and his head spins to glance back at me.

"Uhh, sure!" He replies, and I wave to him once before running to get my bus.

As the bus is driving away, I notice that he hasn't moved from the same spot. He's still just standing there, watching me go with a funny look on his face, and he stays there even as the bus rounds the corner and he's cut off from my sight.


	3. Ice Cream

Wednesdays are typically pretty good days for me- you know, middle of the week and all. However, I can assuredly say that this Wednesday has possibly been one of the worst days in recent memory for me.

When I leave in the morning Dad's still asleep, taking full advantage of the one day of the week which he doesn't have to go in to work until ten. Construction work is tough and extremely draining, as we both know all too well. However, as a result I don't get to say goodbye to him. Somehow, a whispered "I love you," to an unresponsive form from the doorway of his bedroom just doesn't cut it.

Even though I'm having a pretty good hair day, all things considered- good enough for me to pull my hair back and tie a ribbon around it in a way that Jade says makes me look like a cheerleader but I think looks glamorous- the jean jacket I was supposed to wear to school is somehow missing, so I end up having to go without it. The three minutes I have to wait for my bus feel like an eternity as my arms slowly go completely numb from the cold.

And worst of all, when I get to school Jade seems to be acting normal as usual, but I can tell that she's still fuming a bit about me snapping at her the other day. Behind her regular bright front she seems distant, and even though she hides it well I'm not fooled for a second. I don't care how good of an actress she is, I've known her for too long. She can never fool me. While I know that she's just bruised- much like my back from my encounters with Stiles and Isaac yesterday- and will get over it if I give her enough time, it still hurts a bit, and I find myself rushing off to homeroom a bit sooner than usual.

Even by lunchtime things still aren't completely great with Jade. She spend most of her lunch chatting with Averie and Holly while I sit quietly at my end of the table, picking at my sandwich. Without Jade to include me in the conversation no one else really makes an effort to engage me at all, and I'm reminded once again that these are Jade and Daniel's friends- not mine. I might be in their group, but without Jade then I might as well just be eating alone.

The best part of the day by miles is History class. We've all been generously provided with computers today; and after taking about ten minutes to set up the slideshow and give it a title Isaac and I determine that to be quite enough work for today, and spend the rest of the class chatting about nothing in particular. Mr. Westover is the kind of teacher that's more than happy to sit at his desk and play checkers on his phone while we all do our own projects, and that couldn't be better for Isaac and I.

"Hold on, hold on," I say about halfway through the class. "You mean to tell me that you actually live _right next door _to Jackson Whittemore?"

"Yeah, unless it's some other jerk with a Porsche blaring his radio at six o'clock every morning."

"Oh my god!" I laugh. "You must be kind of well-off, then- I mean, that's a pretty posh neighborhood."

Isaac shrugs. "I guess. Cemeteries can make some _pretty good _money, apparently."

My eyes light up with an evil thought. "So- right next door to Jackson? Does he- I mean, does he- do anything weird? Besides the car thing."

Isaac smirks, a wicked light dancing in his eyes. "Bet you didn't know that Jackson sleepwalks."

My eyes widen, and I lean forward as if he's telling me the most confidential thing I've ever heard in my life. "Get _out_."

"Outside."

"No."

_"In boxers."_

And _that_ is officially the highlight of my school day.

However, even Isaac picks up on my general mood. I guess I'm looking a bit more harried that I'd like to think, because towards the end of class he can no longer hold back an inquiry. "Uhh, Rebecca- are you okay today?"

My eyes widen and my head snaps away from the cat I had been absently doodling in my notebook. "Oh, yeah, I guess. Why?"

He shrugs. "Sorry, you just seemed a bit- down today."

"No, no, I'm fine," I say, shaking my head at his inquisitive expression. "I just... I'm just kind of worried about my friend, is all. We had sort of a fight yesterday, but I'm sure everything is going to be fine."

"Oh," he says simply before turning away with a nod. "Okay." And that's the end of it. I'm abruptly glad that he just chose to leave it there- the difference between Isaac and guys like Daniel and Kyle, I realize, are that some boys feel the need to always ask "Can I do anything?" They don't realize that if there were something that they could do then I would tell them, and it does kind of annoy me. Isaac, however, doesn't feel the need to do that, and it actually takes a lot of the stress away when talking about problems like that. When someone isn't constantly asking if they can help, then it just feels easier to me- like it isn't as big of a deal. It's easier to talk about my problems for _me _that way, which is why I'm very, very relieved that Isaac doesn't seem to be that kind of guy.

Even with Isaac providing a respite from the rest of the day's general suckiness, by the final bell I am tired. Tired of Jade being all spacey with me, tired of pretending that I don't notice, and tired of not being able to talk to my best friend.

"Hey," I say when I find her at her locker, grabbing her arm and turning her so that she has no choice but to look at me. "We need to talk."

"Nothing to talk about, Bec," she says in a falsely bright tone, pulling away from my grip. "Everything is totally fine."

"Sure. Is that why you haven't been talking to me all day?"

I can't see her face since she's once again hiding inside of her locker, but her arms, which had been calmly removing her books, suddenly freeze. "I haven't been ignoring you," she says with the perfect measure of cool control. Not that I would expect anything less from her. But like I said, I know her far too well.

"I never said you were," I reply, leaning against my own locker. "But you've been distant, and I can see that you're still upset about yesterday."

"I'm not upset."

"Sure." I cross my arms. "Jade, you were pestering me, even though I already told you no. I snapped, yeah, but you would have too." She slams her locker shut, turning away from me, but I grab her arm again. "Would you cut that out and face me already?"

Jade freezes in my grip and slowly, slowly, she spins around to look at me. "I don't want to fight, Becca," she says quietly, and I shake my head.

"Me neither. I really don't. And I am sorry, if it helps." She leans her shoulder against her locker, watching me with wide brown eyes. "I just... you know that my dad works so much. When we get to spend time together it really means a lot to me. And I don't want to bail on him."

"He bails on you all the time," she murmurs, and I wince.

"That isn't the point. He's still Dad, and he always tries. I owe him the same courtesy."

There's a moment in which we both observe each other wordlessly before she sighs. "I'm sorry."

A smile spreads across my face. "Me too. Friends?"

She bites her lip, pretending to consider. "Well..."

"Oh, come on. I actually have some news about a certain captain of the lacrosse team that I'm sure you're dying to hear..."

"Co-captain," she corrects almost automatically before she seems to register what I said, and her eyes widen. "What? I mean, besides that he's taking Allison Argent to the dance."

I crinkle my nose. "Allison who?"

Jade rolls her eyes. "Wow, you really _don't_ pay attention. But what? What's the news about Jackson?"

As we walk out of school together, I tell her all I've learned from Isaac about Jackson's secret nighttime exploits, and I can't ignore the wave of relief that washes over me when I hear Jade's delighted laughter. She's laughing, really laughing, and that can only mean one thing- everything is really okay.

"Hey," Jade says suddenly as I turn to run to my bus. "Do you want to ride home with me today? We can go get some ice cream or something."

My face lights up at the thought of riding home in Jade's car, and any residual anxiety I might have felt instantly melts away. Jade's car is her _baby, _and it's probably one of the nicest cars owned by anyone at this school. I mean, it isn't Jackson Whittemore's Porsche, but it's an awesome car all the same, and she revels in giving people rides purely for the purpose of showing off. Unlike my dad's Jeep, which has way more space then the two of us actually need and was probably purchased some time in the eighteen-hundreds, Jade's silver convertible is neat, compact, and has such a smooth paint job that it literally _shines_. Also unlike my dad's car, it can actually go more than thirty miles per hour- so that's always cool. And ice cream is always a sure-fire way to brighten up any gloomy day, as Jade well knows.

Gladly, I hop in the passenger side as Jade pulls open the driver's door. Breathing in deeply, I inwardly take in every little detail her car has to offer, just like I do every single time I come in here. As soon as we have enough money, I'm getting a convertible, I swear. I love these types of cars so much. Maybe I'd actually bother to drive then.

"Like it?" Jade whispers while I'm preoccupied with examining the bright red leather seating, causing me to jump. I shoot her an annoyed look as she snickers at me.

"Hey, cut me some slack here. You've seen my dad's car, and I typically take the _school bus_."

Jade smirks as we speed out of the parking lot. "The bus isn't that-"

"Don't say it. I swear to god, don't even say it, because you know that it is. It _is _that bad, and don't try to say that it isn't."

"Well, you could have it worse. I mean, you could be like that kid." One brightly nail-polished finger points down the road, where I can make out a lone figure in a grey hoodie pedaling along down the sidewalk on his bike, seemingly unaware of us as we drive ever closer to him.

"Hey, wait, stop!" I exclaim abruptly, and Jade slams on the brakes in surprise, halting the car right next to the boy on his bike. Evidently just as alarmed as Jade, the boy swerves and nearly ends up faceplanting on the sidewalk before swiftly regaining his balance at the last second.

"Hey there, stranger!" I call, rolling down the tinted window to reveal myself. Isaac's entire face seems to light up when he sees that it's me, and I grin at him.

"I thought you lived on the other side of town?"

"Yeah, I do."

"You're riding your bike all the way across town?"

Isaac shrugs, like it's no big deal. "I do it every day."

"You're kidding." My eyes widen to the point where they must look like they're popping out of my skull, but I don't care. Isaac has to ride his bike to and from school all the way across town every single morning _and _afternoon? It's no wonder the kid's so skinny, he's probably working himself half to death! In my mind, something doesn't sit right about this, and I can tell from the expression on Jade's face that she feels the same way. Isaac's family isn't poor- they live next door to Jackson Whittemore, for crissakes, and he's probably the wealthiest kid in town. Surely Isaac can afford to have some sort of run-down Jeep- or at least to take the bus!

"No... not really," Isaac replies, suddenly looking uneasy when he notices the concerned look on my face. "It's no big deal," he hastens to add. "Really. I like it."

I look over at Jade and she crinkles her nose. It's clear we're both thinking the same thing- what kind of parents does this poor guy _have_?

"Hey- Isaac," Jade says suddenly, leaning over me to look out my window as well. "Why don't you ride with us just this once? We'll take you up there."

Isaac's eyes widen, and an odd expression flashes across his face. It's one I can easily identify, because it's the same look I saw when I mentioned the umbrella yesterday; a look of mixed hope and relief. However, it's gone as soon as it appeared, and he's backing away again.

"It- it's fine, really," he stammers, nearly tripping over his bike as he struggles to mount it without taking his eyes off us once. "I wouldn't want to- I mean-"

"Isaac." He falls silent the second I interrupt him, still keeping those icy eyes on me. "Please? You can put your bike in the back. Come on, it's not like we're _total _strangers or anything."

"I wouldn't want to impose when-"

"Please, Isaac," I prompt gently. "It's really fine. And it would make me really happy if you got in the car."

I don't know exactly how I managed to do it, but after a moment of silence in which Isaac stares at us like we've just offered him a million dollars of what he highly suspects to be Monopoly money, he slowly nods and steps off of his bike.

Jade's trademark grin spreads across her face. "Hop in, Isaac!" With the press of a button the trunk of her car flips open, and I gesture for Isaac to place his bicycle in the back. He does so smoothly, careful not to accidentally hit the car while lifting the bicycle, and slides into the backseat as Jade starts the car up again.

"Isaac, have you met Jade?"

"I don't think we have met," Jade says, not giving Isaac the chance to reply. "Hi, Isaac, I'm Jade Newmar. Rebecca's been telling me a _lot_ about you." I jab her sharply in the ribs with my elbow and she smirks. "I'd turn around to shake your hand or whatever, but I'm pretty sure that violates about ten driving laws, and my dad would _so_ skin me if I got another ticket, so you'll have to settle for just words for today."

"That's okay," Isaac replies quietly. The tense tone in his voice causes me to frown, and I glance back at him in on of the mirrors. He looks uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly amidst the bright red of the seats and clutching his bag stiffly in his lap, but he seems to relax a bit as I turn around to offer him a reassuring smile. "My dad has a car like this," he comments quietly. "I mean- it looks a lot like this. The top doesn't go down, though."

My eyes narrow as an idea suddenly occurs to me, and one glance at Jade says that she's thinking the exact same thing. "Isaac," I say as my friend's hand moves towards another button, "duck."

"Why-" he begins to say, but is startled as the roof suddenly shifts over him and immediately brings his head to his knees, covering it with his hands. I laugh at his instant reaction and duck my head down as well as the convertible top dips low into the car before being pulled into the back and concealed from view.

Isaac looks almost comically bemused as he lifts his head up. "Pretty sure it's not supposed to do that," he says, glancing uneasily over his shoulder as if he expects the top to pop out again and attempt to squash us once more. I can't suppress a grin. If my reaction the first time I experienced it was anything like that, it's no wonder why it took Jade's little brother nearly five minutes to stop giggling.

"Yeah," Jade sighs regretfully, shifting the car's gears again and speeding off down the road. "It's a kink. The hood dips into the car as it's going down. I want to get it fixed, but they'd have to replace the hood, and no one is doing that to my baby."

I roll my eyes. "You value your car more than your own life."

"I'm not denying it."

"It's only a car, it isn't like it's your child."

"You should know, the closest thing you've ever had to your own car was a Barbie Dream Convertible when you were seven."

"Which you adored. Do not bash my Barbie Dream Car."

Isaac watches us banter back and forth in silence, but one look over at him tells me that he isn't nearly as uncomfortable as he was when he first entered the car. He's leaning back in his seat with a tiny smile on his face. The wind whips through the car, unsettling his dark blond curls, but he doesn't seem to notice.

Once our argument dies out, the car is returned to it's former quiet once more. Jade, forever despising silence of any kind, reaches over and turns on the radio, and the car is immediately filled with blaring music that makes me jump at the volume and let out a startled squeak.

"Sorry," Jade hastily apologizes, not entirely able to hide her snickers at my reaction. A glance back at Isaac shows that he, too, is inappropriately amused, and I shoot him a look of mock-hurt.

"Isaac, you betrayed me."

He shrugs, grinning. "Sorry. You leapt about a foot."

"And squealed like I just stepped on your tail," Jade adds, amusement lacing her tone. I scrunch up my nose.

"What tail? I do not have a ta- you see what I have to deal with everyday?" I sigh, tuning to Isaac.

"You love me, you know it."

"_Sure_, honey. Keep telling yourself that."

We keep it up like that for several minutes- me and Jade carrying on a steady stream of conversation in the car with Isaac joining in at random moments, and the blasting music filling in any extra moments of silence. Everything is actually really nice, just the three of us. Isaac is as relaxed as I've ever seen him, and I can help but feel a tiny rush of happiness that Jade seems to approve of him. I don't know why- but he is my friend, and the fact that my best friend seems to get along well with him makes me feel really good.

Isaac looks confused when Jade suddenly pulls over to the side of the road in front of the ice cream shop and steps out of the car. I realize suddenly that we neglected to tell him about our other plans.

I glance over at Isaac. "You won't be late, really. Your parents won't mind, right?" He pauses a moment, as if the question doesn't really register, and then quickly shakes his head.

"Okay, then!" Jade chirps. "What do you guys want?"

I sigh, biting my lip for a second before replying. "I want... regular vanilla in a cake cone." Jade grunts, rolling her eyes. "What? I literally order the same thing every time, I don't see why you're so surprised!"

Muttering something about "lack of originality" and "the worst person to get ice cream with in the _world_," Jade turns to Isaac, looking at him expectantly. He raises his eyebrows.

"Would you hit me if I said that I just wanted the same thing?"

With a cry of despair, Jade turns on her heel and stalks into the ice cream place.

"Wow," I mutter, watching her retreating back until she vanishes into the shop. Isaac's still smirking when I ask him, "Did you order that just to see her reaction?"

He shakes his head. "No, I like vanilla. Always have. It's kind of... simple. But nice."

"Simple, but... nice." I lean back in my seat, a small smile flickering across my face. "Yeah."

It doesn't take more than two minutes for Jade to return to the car, somehow miraculously managing to juggle three ice cream cones in two hands. It doesn't come as any surprise to me that her own ice cream is a sprinkle covered multicolored jumble that looks like it has enough sugar in it to send an elephant into hyper-drive, but she looks more than delighted with it as she carefully hands Isaac and I our own and slides into the driver's seat.

"You can't eat that while driving, you know," I comment, licking my own ice cream and watching with no small level of amusement as one of the scoops of Jade's teeters precariously to one side before she nudges it back into place with her finger. She glances towards me, a defiant gleam in her eye.

"Watch me," she retorts, starting up the car again. The radio blasting, we take off down the street.

We must make a funny contrast to Isaac, I realize, from what he can see from the back. There's me, leaning back in my seat and casually licking my vanilla cone, and then Jade who's trying her darndest to shove an entire scoop of ice cream into her mouth at once. Somehow she manages to keep any of it from dripping on to her shirt- _that_ would probably make her crash the car, if nothing else- and is still keeping a hold of the wheel without any apparent trouble. However, glancing back at Isaac, I notice that he's staring pensively out of the car. One hand is dangling out the side and is slowly being pushed back by the wind, but he doesn't seem to pay any mind to it. Every so often he seems to remember that he actually is holding an ice cream cone, and takes a small bite out of it before turning back to the window. I tilt my head, a small smile finding it's way to my face- he looks almost like a picture as he's sitting there, so unmoving.

Somehow he notices that I'm watching him; he probably feels my eyes on him, as I'm not exactly being subtle. He turns his head just enough to glance at me, and it's only when he realizes I'm looking at him that he seems to snap out of his haze and returns his attention to the cone in his hand, for some reason looking a bit sheepish.

"You know," I say, having to raise my voice a bit over the blaring music and the wind pounding in my ears, "my dad always said never to trust a person who bites their ice cream."

A smirk spreads across Isaac's face. "And I say the exact opposite. Why? You don't trust me?"

"She doesn't trust anyone," Jade replies lightly. "At least, no one besides me. Once, when we were twelve, she got this close to convincing me that my cousin was trying to murder me and take my place, because she looks almost exactly like-"

"Jade!" I hiss, my face turning pink as I reach over to cover her mouth. Jade swats me away, grinning mischievously.

"She wanted to lock her in the closet and call the pol- _mrrphh_!"

"Ignore her," I call over my shoulder to Isaac, who's doing his best to hide his grin. Obediently, he turns back to staring out the car, and Jade, recognizing the her battle has been lost, sighs in defeat and returns to her ice cream.

I can't help but feel glad that I decided to tie my hair back today- with Jade's extremely short hair and Isaac's just general guy-hair-ness, I'm the only one in the car with hair that goes past my shoulders, and seeing it become a tangled, ice-creamy blonde mess isn't exactly high up on the list of things I want Isaac to be seeing anytime soon. Jade I really wouldn't care about- she's seen me in worse positions. But Isaac's a new friend, and- just like with my dyslexia- I somehow find that I really don't want to make an fool of myself in front of him. Not yet, anyways. I will eventually, of course, because I always do. But not today. I'm not going to make Isaac think that I'm an idiot on the second day of our acquaintance, because that's just plain sad... and totally something that I, of all people, would manage to do.

I'm so deeply engrossed in my musings on my own idiocy that I barely even notice what Jade's doing until I hear her whoop next to me, and I turn to find that she has literally finished her entire monster ice cream cone in the space of three minutes. I roll my eyes, far past being used to her insane appetite, but Isaac's eyebrows look fit to jump clean off his head.

"Are- are you kidding?" he stammers, and Jade simply grins at him.

"It's called _skill_, Isaac," she quips. "Pure skill."

I sigh, biting into the side of my own ice cream cone, and turn to stare out the window as Isaac leans back in his seat, no doubt mentally debating exactly how it could be possible for a human being to consume an entire three scoop cone in three minutes flat. I watch as Beacon Hills races by us; with Jade's rapid speed we quickly go from the middle-class part of town to the more affluent section of town. How Isaac lives here I have no idea; I mean, at first glance he really doesn't seem like your stereotypical rich kid, and he certainly isn't any Jackson.

By the time we pull up on Isaac's street, we've all long since finished off our ice creams. Isaac's eyes stare anxiously out the window, running over each house as we pass by until we reach the end of the street. "This it?" I ask softly, so as not to jar him too roughly from his thoughts. He looks up sharply, just as he did before, and I incline my head towards his house. "Eight-fifty-five?"

"Uhh... yeah." He undoes his seatbelt quickly, glancing almost nervously towards his red brick house as he does so. I take a moment to study the front of his house, and can't help the way my eyes narrow. Somehow, Isaac's porch gives me an anxious feeling- either it's because the lighting isn't quite right or it just looks a bit ominous, I don't know. Isaac takes in the empty driveway, and I don't miss the flash of relief that runs across his face; relief at what?

Jade clicks open the trunk and he pulls his bike out the back, setting it in the grass at the edge of his lawn before turning back to us. "Umm... thanks," he says, offering us a small smile. "I really appreciate the ride." Despite his previous expression of relief, he still seems uneasy somehow- I don't fail to notice his nervous glances down the street we just came from, and I can't help but get the distinct feeling that he wants us to leave now.

I want to call out to him; to say "goodbye," or "I'll see you tomorrow," or something along those lines. More than anything, though, I want to plead with him- beg him not to go in that house, not even to go near it, because it just feels _wrong_ somehow. But I find the words stall in my throat, and I can only wave at him as Jade, evidently getting the same vibes as I am from the house and from Isaac himself, starts the car up. Isaac responds in kind, and with another anxious glance down the street vanishes inside as we speed off down the road.

"So," I say a few minutes later, once we're an appropriate distance from the house and I find that my voice has finally returned. "What did you think of Isaac?"

"He was nice. Seems like a pretty sweet kid- I approve," Jade replies in her usual bright tones. However, the expression on her face is exactly as perturbed as I realize mine must be. "That house, though..."

"It gave me the creeps," I murmur, examining my hands in my lap. "Like I couldn't even speak. Something was just off."

"Did you see the way he was glancing down the street? Almost as if he expected, like, an axe murderer to run out from the neighbor's yard or something!"

I don't really know how to reply to that, so I settle for laughing uneasily. "Seriously," Jade says, her voice quiet. "I don't know what the hell it was, but that house freaked me out."

I nod, biting my lip. "Totally."

"I mean, how can Jackson Whittemore live next to a place like that?"

And just like that, Jade's back, and I lean back in my seat with a sigh.

**AN: Okay, just want to get this out of the way before we proceed any futher on our little adventure- this is going to be a long story. Most of the chapters are around 5,000-6,000 words in length, and there will be about, maybe... 30 chapters? It's a lot, I know, so just gear up. I know it's hard to read so much, but if you've got the patience I promise you won't regret investing your time in this story.**


	4. Secrets

"I just really need glasses."

These are the first words I hear coming out of my mouth, and as Isaac turns back to his paper with a nod that I can't help but think to myself looks more than a little unconvinced I find that I'm inwardly screaming. I'm an idiot. I am such an idiot.

"_I just really need glasses_." Why would I say that? Why would I say that to _Isaac_? I haven't said that since I was eight. I swore that I would never, ever say it again...

I don't need glasses. Just to get that one point out of the way, I don't. At all. But, see, when I was five years old and had no idea what was wrong with my head aside from the fact that every other kid could read and I had no idea what the difference between a _p _and a _q _was, I didn't know that. The only thing I really understood about glasses was how a kid in my class explained it to me- they help you read better. And I knew without a doubt that that was exactly what I needed. So, anytime someone would ask my why I was squinting at the board so much or why I would just sometimes start crying in the middle of class because the letters didn't make sense, I would tell them- "I just really need glasses."

But around the time I was seven, I gradually began to realize that I didn't need glasses, that there was just something in my head different from everyone else. And that scared me more than anything else. "Glasses" was my safety net- without having that to fall back on whenever someone asked what was wrong, all I could say was that I didn't know. But I swore, I promised my mom and my dad and _myself_, that I would never say that I "just needed glasses" again.

So that's why it makes no sense to me when while I'm squinting at a mass of jumbled letters of a computer screen, Isaac can't help but ask if I'm okay, and I reply with those five words that I hid behind for so long as a little girl: "I just really need glasses."

"Oh," Isaac says, nodding slightly, but the expression on his face makes it all too clear that he isn't convinced.

Maybe I just said that because I was still a bit shaken up? Yeah, that has to be it. Today Isaac came into class with a limp, and it nearly scared me half to death. Apparently he got it from tripping on the stairs yesterday, which makes sense, I guess, but it still scared me. It probably scared me so much that I... I just spit out a lie without thinking.

Today is the first day that we've actually forced ourselves to hunker down and work on our project, and it's quickly becoming apparent that maybe we were a bit stupid to put it off for so long. It's almost the end of the period, and we've only managed to get about half of our slideshow completed. I'm finding all the pictures and looking up everything while Isaac's mainly doing the writing, which suits me just fine. We're moving at a pretty brisk pace; however, it quickly becomes apparent that it won't be enough.

"You know," I say, a hint of worry lacing my tone as I glance up at the clock to see there are only five minutes of class left, "I really think we might not get done with this in time."

Isaac frowns, glancing up at the clock as well, his eyebrow rising. "No," he says flatly. "We won't. At all."

"Great," I sigh, slowly tilting my head back to stare at the ceiling in dismay. I need a good grade. I _need_ a good grade. I know it's pretty much my fault but I need a good grade. "You know, I can just take it home tonight, finish it up and hand it in tomorrow."

Isaac shakes his head. "Are you kidding? No way. I'm not leaving you to do half the work on your own."

"I really don't-"

"Not an option," Isaac replies, shutting down my protests before they can even take off.

"Well, we have to do something," I say. "Maybe tonight we could... uhh, you could come over to my house? I mean, if that's alright with you. We could finish the project and stuff- you could even stay for dinner."

As soon as the idea is out of my mouth, I realize how great it would be. If Isaac comes over to my house then my dad can meet him and see that he isn't a crazy like Dad says his father is, so this way he won't go into Papa-bear mode anytime he sees us texting each other. And Isaac- I don't know, but then maybe Isaac and I can just hang out. I like hanging out with Isaac.

Isaac's staring down at his paper, and seems to be considering something deeply. I watch him for a moment as he ponders before finally looking up towards me. He's still frowning, but he nods. "Yeah, I think I could probably do that. What time?"

"Uhh, I mean, it all depends when would be best for you, but I think maybe five-thirty? My dad get's home at six-thirty tonight, so you can probably meet him, and you should most likely be home not long after."

"Oh," Isaac nods, that same somewhat-wary expression on his face. "Okay, great. I just have to ask my dad..." He shakes his head suddenly, and the frown is gone, replaced with a fairly optimistic look. "yeah, that would be great."

When the bell rings, I walk out of class with a smile on my face. I don't know why, but the thought of having Isaac come over to my house fills me with a weird sort of excitement; like you've just being told you're going to Disneyland in a week, and don't know exactly how to react. I wonder if it has something to do with the fact that I've never actually had a guy over my house before- but then I realize I'm being stupid. I mean, it's Isaac. Just Isaac. Isaac, who likes Marvel comics and Harry Potter, who can't ride a skateboard to save his life and who rides his bike like an Olympic athlete. Isaac who's favorite color is blue- not sky blue or bright blue, but cool, dark blue, because he says it relaxes him. Isaac who doesn't laugh at me when I say I'm kind of scared of lizards, because they freak him out too. Isaac who's funny, Isaac who's smart, Isaac who seems shy but just needs to warm up to you a bit. That's the Isaac I've become familiar with over the past few days. That's my friend Isaac, and that's who I'm inviting to my house. It isn't like I'm inviting Kyle or someone like that over, _it's Isaac_.

I have no reason to freak out about this. It's just Isaac. _Just _Isaac.

xXxXxXxXx

"I'm freaking out about this. I'm _so _freaking out about this. And the worst part is, I have no idea _why_ I'm freaking out about this."

Jade rolls her eyes. "Oh my god, honey, you're like a little socially awkward monkey and I don't know whether it's sad or adorable."

I crinkle my nose, leaning against my locker. "Hey..."

"No offense," Jade amends hurriedly. "But it's just so... amusing, is all. I mean, you're really freaking out about inviting this kid over, and it's just for a project."

"I know!" I exclaim. "That's why I'm being so stupid!"

"Okay." Jade seizes me by the shoulders, staring me straight in the eye. "Here's what you need to do. Are you listening, because I'm about to give you some of the most important advice you've ever heard. Are you listening?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"_Yes_."

"Okay, here's what you've got to do. First thing, clean your room."

"No problem there," I say, shaking my head as best as I can while she's still got me in her vice grip. "It's already clean. I'm a neat freak, remember?"

"I know, I know. But clean it again, trust me. He'll probably go up to your room, depending on how comfortable you feel around him-"

"I feel comfortable enough. I mean, he's just Isaac."

Jade snorts, the tiny smirk that appears on her face utterly bewildering me. "Yeah, just Isaac. Which is why you're freaking out." Her dark eyes narrow. "Also, quit interrupting me. Do you want my advice, or not?" I nod hastily, and she smiles smugly. "Of course you do. Anyway- clean your room. Also, don't be afraid to dress up. Do your hair, put on some sort of nice thing, wear some makeup- if you own any, that is- just trust me."

"I don't, really."

"You don't have to, just listen to me."

"I'm not trying to seduce him," I frown. "I just... don't want to seem like an idiot."

"And you won't," Jade replies with a flippant roll of her eyes, finally releasing me from her hold. I rub my arms, where I'm pretty sure her sharply manicured nails have broken skin, while she smirks confidently. "Just listen to me, and everything will go your way. Are you trying to impress him?"

"I- I don't know."

"Well, don't," she replies, not even seeming as if she's paying attention to me anymore as she glances down the hallway, blowing a kiss to Daniel from where he's talking with Lee about something that seems hardly important, judging by the other boy's bored expression. "Don't try to impress him, and it's that much more likely that you will." She suddenly rounds on me again, causing me to jump back a step. "So, what are you going to do tonight?"

"Uhh-" I blink several times, attempting to make sense of the intensely focused expression on her face as she stares at me. "Impress him?"

"Right!" She breaks into a grin, before turning on her heel and dashing off towards Daniel. I frown, leaning against the lockers again.

Why do I have to impress Isaac tonight? Or, perhaps the more important question- why does it suddenly feel as if I want to?

xXxXxXxXx

As it's Thursday, I have swimming practice after school . Because of this, I don't get home until four-thirty- exactly one hour before Isaac is due to show up at my house.

I have never sprinted inside my house so fast in my life. Every single thing that Jade had gone through such pains to lecture me about at the end of the day suddenly comes flowing back in to my head, every syllable berating me. _Clean your room. Get dressed. Impress him. Impress him, impress him, impress him._

My hair's still chlorine-soaked from the swimming pool, so I quickly take a shower and wash my hair. It's after that when the preparations really begin. My room, I had though, was absolutely neat and tidy. Well, that was before I actually bothered to look at it.

It's only the littlest things that I find off; this drawer isn't shut all the way, a shoe is poking out from under my bed, a bracelet fell on the ground. But somehow I manage to spend half an hour scouring my room head to toe, fixing each and every little imperfection that I see. _Impress him. _Well, if my room won't impress him now, I don't know what else I can do.

It's only when I actually bother to glance at the bedside clock that I realize that I have only fifteen minutes left. Fifteen minutes before Isaac's due to show up, and I'm still in my bathrobe.

What else can I do? I panic.

The fact is, I have nothing to wear. Anything that could possibly potentially impress Isaac simply does not exist in my closet. It is not something that I own. Jade's the one with the miniskirts, tank-tops and dresses, as well as the confidence to wear them. My wardrobe consists primarily of jeans and tops, and that is literally it. Typically I never feel self-conscious about what I wear, but now, with the mantra of "impress him" ringing in my head, it's very difficult not to. Not for the first time, I find myself wishing I possessed Jade's smooth curves; she can make even jeans and a t-shirt look good. On me it just looks like... plain old Rebecca. And I'm not that impressive at all, really.

Eventually I manage to find a top that I deem acceptable; a pastel green thing with short, flowing sleeves. My aunt Celia sent it to me for my sixteenth birthday last month, and I literally wore it once before stashing it away in the back of my closet. It wasn't really my style, but now I can't help but appreciate Aunt Celia's thoughtfulness; if Jade wanted to get me something pretty she would have gone for something far too elaborate, and Dad has no idea how to shop for clothes at all. While it isn't something I would buy for myself it's still beautiful and I can't help but think that it looks good on me as I admire it in my mirror. Complete with my favorite pair of jeans and a silver chain with a tiny sapphire that reminds me of the sea, I think that I look like something even Jade might approve of.

Isaac arrives at my house at exactly five minutes past the appointed time, and as I open the door I can't help but feel a bit irritated. I hate lateness in all forms, and people who never seem to be on time irk me to no end, so as I open the door I can't help but feel that my smile isn't as bright as it could be. But I soften the moment I spot his bike sitting at the edge of my lawn; if he rode all the way here himself, I can't really blame him for not being on time. Also, he's still favoring his left leg noticeably over his right- he still has the limp from earlier today.

"Hi," he says as soon as he sees me, and I can't help but feel a bit nervous as his eyes take in my outfit. "Wow. You look, um... good."

I know that my face must be all kinds of red. It's not often that guys tell me I look good- especially not guys like Isaac. "Thank you," I grin, opening the door wider as he steps into the narrow foyer of our house. Isaac's eyes are wide, and I watch as he silently takes in the carpeted staircase before turning his attention down the narrow hallway leading into the kitchen, the source of most of the light down here- despite the dim overhead light being switched on, the foyer is barely illuminated. "Hold on," I say, dashing upstairs. At the top of the steps I stop and flick a little switch on the wall, casting the entire stairway into brightness and serving to light up the tiny space below. "Come on, we'll work up here."

He turns to me, his brow furrowed, and with a sigh I run down the stairs again. "Why up there?" He asks, and I shrug.

"My laptop's in my room, and somehow upstairs always seems bigger than downstairs." I don't add that the living room, the only other room downstairs besides the kitchen, is primarily Dad's space. "Come on," I tease, seeing his still-slightly-bewildered look as he glances upstairs. "It's just my room. I don't have anything under the bed waiting to kill you."

I start up the stairs and he trails after me. He doesn't say anything, and is in fact so quiet that I don't even realize he's stopped until I reach the top of the stairs.

"What are you doing?" I ask quietly, descending to join him where he's examining one of the pictures hanging on the wall. He jumps a bit, turning to me.

"Sorry, I was just... is that you?"

I look at the portrait he gestures to, and the awkwardness of having him study my childhood photos fades abruptly as a melancholy little smile spreads over my face. The picture that's caught his eye is one I know well. In fact, it's a favorite picture of mine- one of a little me at the age of five, in a green and black Christmas dress with my blonde hair done up in tiny pigtails. In the portrait I sit between my mother and father, both dressed in their best and smiling like getting their photo taken is the best thing to ever happen to them. My dad actually looks happy here; he looks like he's working reasonable hours in a well-paying job with a happy family life, and it shows- there isn't a grey hair in sight amidst his smooth black locks. And my mom- well, my mom's just as I remember her. Her pretty, heart-shaped face is framed by long blonde curls, and there's a certain carefree lightness to her bright blue eyes that makes her look about ten years younger than her actual age. My mother was beautiful- we all were, back then.

"Yeah," I smile. "That's me, and that's my dad, and that's... my mom."

Isaac's eyes widen the moment I say the word "mom", and he looks a bit embarrassed for having brought her up, clearly not wanting to upset me even though I told him earlier that I really didn't mind talking about my mother. "She was really pretty. Beautiful, actually."

I bite my lip. "Thank you." For some reason, despite my earlier convictions, I suddenly feel an inexplicable sense of sadness, even though I have no idea why. Maybe it's just looking back at a time when we were all so happy, or maybe it's the wistful little look on Isaac's face as he stares up at the portrait on the wall. I suddenly find myself just really wanting to move on. "Come on," I say, turning my back on the framed picture and gesturing him to follow me up the stairs. "My room is this way."

He trails behind me up the staircase, and I lead him down the brightly lit corridor. He doesn't stop to examine any more pictures as we walk, even though they litter the walls; and I find myself glad that he doesn't. I don't mind talking about my mom, but that's probably because I never actually talk about her to anyone. It's strange, discussing my mother with Isaac; and perhaps even stranger is that sad look that seemed to come into his eyes when he was looking at her, and I realize abruptly that he never actually mentions his own mother ever. His father, yes; but I've never heard him bring up his mom once.

The door at the end of the hallway is shut tightly, as it always is at this time of day. It waits for my father, whenever he decides to arrive home. That door is shut most times I walk past it- either he's at work or asleep. Otherwise, the door is open. I never go into his room when Dad isn't here. It would be like him going in to mine- it's just something we don't do. "Not that one," I say when Isaac begins to steer towards Dad's door. "My room's further down."

I lead him around the corner, and it's only a few seconds until we reach my room. Isaac pauses at the doorway as I step inside, and when I turn back to him he seems almost afraid to enter. "What's the matter?" I ask, raising my eyebrows teasingly. "Never been in a girl's room before?"

"No, actually," Isaac replies from the doorway. "I really don't have friends, remember?"

"That's okay- I've never been in a guy's room, so I guess we're pretty even." I grab my laptop off of my bed and plant myself down on my light pink comforter, flipping it open. "Come on," I say, glancing back at him again and raising my eyebrows. "I don't bite, and you're nuts if you think we're working on this out in the hall."

Isaac smirks slightly at my quip as he musters up his confidence and enters my room, and I find that I'm holding my breath as he takes in his surroundings. My room has always felt like home to me- the light purple walls and carpets have always held a deep familiarity. But with Isaac standing in the middle of my floor, I realize suddenly that I've never had anyone in my room who doesn't live here and isn't named Jade; and suddenly I find that I'm almost anxious for him to approve of it.

"Your room's nice."

I let out a breath of air I didn't know I was holding. "Thanks." Logging in to my account, I do my best not to look up as Isaac slowly wanders over to my desk next to the door. What's he doing? I wonder if he's studying pictures again. The ones on my desk are mostly all of me and Jade, collected over the years; I doubt he'd find much of interest in them.

"What's this?" I hear Isaac ask, and I look up to see him examining the small wooden case mounted on the wall over my desk.

I smile wryly as I rise to my feet, pushing the laptop to the side and going over to join him in studying the little gold medal on a red ribbon that hangs in the case. "That," I reply, fully aware of the pride in my voice as I gaze upon it, "is my swimming medal. I won it last year at the community center- freestyle race, first place winner."

"You swim?" Isaac looks surprised.

"Yeah. Didn't I mention it before?"

"No, you didn't." He shakes his head, glancing back at my medal once more before coming over to join me on the bed. He sits down a bit awkwardly next to me, and I push the laptop between us. "My dad, actually, used to coach swimming- at the school."

I nod, opening up our project file. "Yeah," I reply offhandedly. "My dad mentioned that. That's kind of neat."

"Yeah," Isaac says, scratching at a loose thread in his jeans. "He only left about four years ago- that was when Grandpa died and left him the cemetery to run."

"Great job to leave for," I quip, and Isaac smirks.

"Yeah, but it's good enough for Dad. And me too, I guess."

"It's cool that your dad coached at our school," I continue, trying to keep up a steady flow of conversation as the dumb slideshow seems to take several eternities to load. "Really interesting."

"Yeah," Isaac replies, and even though his voice remains light I can't ignore the slight hint of what I could almost call bitterness in his tone- something I'm certain he hadn't intended to let slip through. "Interesting."

I frown, the tone of his voice throwing me off, unsettling me for some reason even though I have no idea why. Why should Isaac be upset about his father leaving his coaching position? Is he upset that his father doesn't coach anymore? I mean, that has to be it, right? I have no other explanation as to why, even though both his words and his expression are as casual as ever, there seems to be a hidden undertone of bitterness in his voice that I can't explain.

"Okay," I say, eager for a subject change. "Project."

"Right."

We spend the next half hour poring over our notes and adding slides here and there. Both of us seem to be eager to get this project finished up with as quickly as possible, and we eventually fall back into a comfortable banter as we work, just as we've been doing each day in class. Isaac warms up as soon as I do, growing much more comfortable in his surroundings, and it isn't long before I've almost completely forgotten about Isaac's unsettling tone from earlier. Ancient Greece definitely isn't the most interesting topic, but we manage. Still, by the time six-fifteen rolls around and we're finally able to close down our slideshow for good, we're both equally matched in our relief.

"Yes!" I exclaim, flopping back against my bed to stare up at the ceiling. "Finally finished!"

Isaac follows suit, a grin on his face as he leans back. "I thought it would never be over."

"Surely I'm not that awful to work with," I pout, and his blue eyes open to stare up at my ceiling.

We lay there in comfortable silence for a moment, content in just lying next to each other. Neither of us are the type who need to fill every moment with conversation, and for now we're both just content to relish in the glory of a project completed and the weight that seems to lift off our shoulders at the thought of not having to do any more work on it. I close my eyes, listening to the sound of my soft breathing combined with Isaac's own. It makes a nice rhythm; kind of like a soothing song, and I like the way our breaths seem to coincide with each other's totally unconsciously.

"If you don't mind me asking," he says finally, his voice tentative, "how did it happen? You know... your..."

He trails off, sounding embarrassed, but I simply shrug. It's been long enough that talking about it doesn't really bother me so much anymore. "Plane crash," I reply simply. "I don't know a lot of the details- there were no survivors. "

"Oh," he replies, and then we both just trail off a bit awkwardly, neither really sure what to say next.

"Nice skylight," Isaac comments after a moment, and I'm both surprised and grateful for the sudden shift in topic.

"Oh, yeah. My dad put that in when I was little- I always liked watching the sky at night. It helps relax me."

"How come?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Maybe it makes me feel like I'm some place else- sitting on a star somewhere, maybe, or floating in a giant raindrop." I snort at my own words. "Sounds silly, huh? Sorry, those are the types of things I think about when I fall asleep, staring up there."

"You have a nice mind," he comments softly. "I'm not nearly as imaginative as that."

I roll my eyes. "Imaginative? Me? Please, yeah right. You have leaps and bounds more imagination than I do- how else could you come up with all of your witty brilliance?"

"I'm not witty," Isaac shoots back rolling his eyes. I turn over onto my side to look at him, and he does the same after a moment.

"Sure you are," I reply. "It takes a sort of talent to make people smile by just being yourself, and that's something that you've got and I don't."

"Yeah, sure. That's why I'm totally Mister Popular at school. Girls just can't keep away from my brilliant charm and humor."

"How do I know you _aren't_ Mister Popular? Maybe you're just hiding some sort of double life that you've neglected to mention to me."

"I doubt it. I've never been good at keeping secrets."

I smirk. "Why not, secret-keeper? What sort of secrets do you have that you just can't keep quiet?" My eyes narrow and I lean in closer. "Go on, you can tell me. I won't repeat anything you don't want me to."

He snorts, pushing away. "Sure, I trust _that _statement."

I sigh sulkily, but I'm grinning all the same, even as my teasing tone fades away to be replaced by a more solemn one. "No, really. I want to hear a secret. Tell me one." In my bored, relaxed state of mind, I'd like nothing more than to hear something interesting about Isaac; he has the type of voice that, when he's talking about something, you can't help but listen to. Well, to me, at least. I think he'd make a great storyteller.

He considers my request for a moment, seeming pensive. I stick out my bottom lip and make doe eyes for him, fully expecting him to roll his eyes and push me away. To my surprise, he does the exact opposite.

"Okay," he says, sounding only the slightest bit reluctant. "Fine." He gestures me to lean in closer, and I do so eagerly, unable to believe that he seriously intends to tell me some secret of his. Surely my wheedling doesn't work that well. "This is something I've never told anyone else before," he continues, slowing his voice for dramatic effect. I roll my eyes at him, shoving his arm gently, my expression clearly telling him to just say it. He laughs softly. "Okay- when I was ten, I crashed my dad's car into the house."

I draw back, my brow furrowed in bewilderment. "Get out. Seriously?"

He grins sheepishly, nodding at me. "Yes, really. _In my defense_, it wasn't totally my fault."

"Whose fault was it, then? Better yet, who the heck let you drive in the first place?"

"My… older cousin let me drive. I have no idea why- I mean, I could barely even reach the breaks, and definitely not in time to keep from crashing into the garage. No one was hurt, but it sure wasn't fun to clean up."

"Oh god," I murmur, stifling my soft chuckles with the back of my hand, feeling a bit bad about laughing at his obvious misfortune. "Was- was your dad angry?" My dad's words on Mister Lahey from last night do a lot to help sober me; if he was rough with his swim team, one has to wonder what his temper was like with his sons.

However, Isaac shakes his head. "No, actually- he really didn't get that upset. He never got so angry back then- not at us, anyway." The word "us" immediately stands out to me here; I assume Isaac is referring to his cousin, and a small smile spreads across my face.

"You and your cousin must be pretty close," I observe, and Isaac's eyes widen. He's clearly surprised, even though I can't figure out why he would be.

"Oh, yeah," he says slowly after a moment as he seems to review his previous words. "Sort of, I guess- I mean, not really. There was a whole seven year age gap and all… but yeah, I guess Cam and I were close." The look on his face while discussing his cousin abruptly shifts to one of discomfort, and as close as we are to each other I can read it all too well. It reminds me somehow of how I felt when talking about Mom, and I get the sense that I must have had a very similar expression on my face at that time. "Anyway," Isaac continues quickly, clearly as eager to change the topic as I had been. "Now, your turn."

I blink in surprise, my face morphing into one of alarm. "I- my turn?"

He nods. "Yeah."

"I… can't think of anything…" As easily as I had demanded a secret of him earlier, I quickly realize that it isn't as easy as it sounds. Now that I'm put on the spot, I have no idea what to say, and I feel my face go a bit pink.

"Oh, come on," Isaac prompts gently. "I did tell you one."

"I don't know what to say," I reply quietly, studying the stitching in my comforter in order to avoid looking at him. When Isaac doesn't speak again, however, I become concerned enough to glance up at him once more. He's watching me with that look in his eyes, that look that seems to imply that he's here and not here all at once. It's the exact same look he had in the cemetery, and the look he had when he was watching my bus drive away, and the look I've noticed a couple of other times in class. "What?" I ask self-consciously, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "Is something wrong?"

He blinks, shaking his head at my bewildered expression, and the odd look vanishes. "No," he says. "Of course not. Nothing's wrong at all." He sighs, and as I feel his warm breath brush against my collarbone I suddenly become hyper-aware of exactly how close we really are. Our faces are literally just inches away from each other, and I blink in surprise at the close proximity. It startles me for a moment, and I can see that he's just realizing it as well as his eyes lock with mine and widen almost imperceptibly, as if they're asking- _"Is this okay?"_

Suddenly, the most random, crazy, unexpectedly bizarre feeling seems to seize me at once, and I feel my own eyes widen as I realize what exactly my mind is urging me to do. I want to kiss him. I don't know why, but I just suddenly wonder what it would be like to press his lips to mine, to feel his skin against my own, to be even closer to him than we already are. We're so near to each other already, and it occurs to me that maybe, just possibly, Isaac might be feeling the same way. These thoughts alarm me almost as soon as they come into existence; I've never felt like that with a boy, ever. Suddenly, I know what my secret is, and I barely realize that the words have slipped out of my mouth before it's too late to take them back.

"I've never kissed a boy before," I breathe softly, and Isaac's blue eyes dart down to his hands for a split second before meeting mine again.

"That's okay," he replies just as quietly. "Neither have I." I raise my eyebrows and he blinks in alarm as exactly what he just said becomes fully clear to him. "I mean- a girl. I've, um, never kissed a girl before."

Just like that, the spell is broken and I manage to tear my eyes from his. I draw back, leaning against the wall and pulling my knees up to my chest. As soon as I'm a healthy distance from Isaac, I can't help but feel slightly relieved. "That's okay," I say, finding myself slightly breathless even though I have no idea why. "Let's just… go." Go where? I have no idea what I even mean, but Isaac clearly has ideas of his own.

"Okay," he says, rising to his feet. "Yeah. I should be getting home anyway."

Home? He's going home? I sit up straight, my eyes widening. "What? I thought you were staying for dinner?"

"You know," he says, beginning to back towards the door, "I think I really can't-"

I'm horrified. What exactly have I done? Have I really managed to make Isaac so unbelievably uncomfortable, just over one stupid statement- a dumb "secret"? I inwardly curse myself- how stupid can one person be? That _isn't me_. I know how pathetic it probably sounds, but it isn't. I'm not some overly hormonal girl who thinks that every boy wants to make out with her, I don't try to kiss boys who I hardly know (for, when it comes down to it, I realize that I only just met Isaac this week, that no matter how

cool he may be or how much I like him I really don't know him that well at all, so I should definitely _not_ be wanting to kiss him). And now I've gone and screwed everything up.

"Are you going to eat otherwise?" I inquire somewhat desperately, casting a glance towards the inky blackness of the night outside my window. How can Isaac really think to ride halfway across town in that? My street's dark, and I know a lot of others in town are too- he could get hit by a car or something.

"I can find something," Isaac replies as he backs out of the doorway to my bedroom, his face a bright red. "I swear, it's fine."

I leap to my feet, my brow creasing. This is all my fault. I made him so uncomfortable, and now he feels like he has to leave. God, why am I so stupid? Why can't I just have one friend who isn't Jade and who I can actually be comfortable around, why do I have to go and chase him away? So much for him not thinking I'm an idiot.

It's one last desperate attempt, but thinking about Isaac taking off down the street in such darkness makes my stomach sink, and I know that if he leaves I probably won't get any sleep all night. Remembering how I had managed to convince him to join Jade and I in the car, I take a few steps closer to him. By some miracle, he doesn't back away, and it occurs to me that maybe I hadn't scared him as much as I'd thought. "Isaac- stay," I say, my voice gentle- pleading might be a better word, but I smother the quiet whispers of '_pathetic_' in the back of my mind. "Please stay? We can order pizza or something, okay? It'll be nice. But it's dark now, and you have to ride all the way home- I mean, I know you're a fast rider, but… I'm really, really sorry, okay? But… please, don't go."

For what seems like hours, Isaac studies me with those big blue eyes and I stand totally still, waiting- waiting to see what he'll do next. It takes a minute, but he does eventually bring himself to nod, and I breathe a sigh of relief. "Fine," he says, "okay, sure. I can stay. I told my dad I'd be home by seven-thirty anyway, so…"

"Okay," I sigh. "I- I'm sorry."

He tilts his head slightly as he glances up at me again. "Sorry?" he echoes, sounding surprised. "For what?"

"For… saying that stupid crap about kisses. Okay? I mean, it's really, really…" I trail off, my face burning. "Look, I'm just not like that, okay? I swear. I don't even know you that well, and we're totally just… I'm _not _like that. I don't even know why I said something so stupid."

Isaac blinks at me, and even though his face remains steady a myriad of expressions flash through his eyes, most too quick for me to even catch them before they've gone again. It frustrates me to no end how difficult it is for me to read his emotions; most people, like Jade and Averie and my dad, I have no problem with and I almost always know how to react to them, because it's easy for me to tell what they're thinking. Not because they're all open books, but just because I've always had a certain skill for that. But with Isaac it's different- it's almost as if he's used to hiding what he's thinking, and it unnerves me.

"Isaac?" I inquire softly, and he seems to snap himself out of whatever thoughtful haze he'd been in.

"It wasn't that Rebecca," he says seriously. "I swear, I just- I just remembered something that I had to do. But it's okay, really, I- I shouldn't have pressed you."

I shake my head. "You didn't press me, I-" I cut myself off abruptly, realizing that bickering with Isaac won't end up getting me anywhere. "You're a terrible liar, you know," I add softly, and he frowns.

"Hey, you don't know that. I actually think that I'm a very good liar."

"You're about as good of a liar as you are a secret-keeper," I retort, turning to my window as Isaac re-enters my room again, taking a seat in my desk chair at my permissive nod. Outside, even in the darkness I can see the glint of the moon reflecting off of the glassy water of the pool, and I'm suddenly glad that it's a relatively clear night. Sometimes the sight of water can clam me down even more that the sky, and I'm grateful for the view right now; I know I could use some calming down.

"Sometimes, when I'm feeling really stressed, I go swimming," I murmur. I'm not even sure if Isaac can hear me or not, but the sound of my own voice soothes me. "It doesn't matter when it is or what I'm doing, if I just really need to get away I go out swimming for a while."

"Do you like swimming?" Isaac asks, and I jump slightly as I realize he's come up behind me.

"Yeah. I love it, I always have- I mean, ever since my mom…" I frown. My infatuation with swimming only really came about after my mother's death- I was never so interested in the water beforehand. "It's just so… peaceful, you know? And it feels good- it feels like you don't have to worry about anything. I like that feeling. I always feel like I'm at my happiest when I'm in the pool, or even near it. I kind of feel… free. Like I can go away and just swim off anywhere. I know it probably sounds stupid, but- I mean, it's not often you get to feel like that. It's wonderful, really."

Isaac chuckles softly behind me, and I turn to glance back him, my eyes narrowed in irritation. "Sorry," he says. "It's just, I was right before. When I said that you have a nice mind. You really do."

I purse my lips, not really sure how to react to that statement. "I... really don't think so. But, thank you."

Isaac doesn't reply and neither do I, and I study my reflection against the glass. I look pale; paler than I usually do. It's only when I drag my gaze away from my own face do I realize that Isaac is studying my reflection as well.

"Isaac?" I say quietly, and in the window I see his reflection lift his head a bit in acknowledgement. "Where do you eat lunch at school."

He frowns. "Why?"

"I- I was just wondering. I mean, I never see you in the cafeteria. I even looked for you today- just to say hi- but I couldn't find you."

Isaac shrugs. "I eat outside, most days."

"Oh. That's... nice. Who do you eat with?"

My attempt to make light conversation falls flat. Badly. "No one," Isaac replies with the same straight look on his face. Meanwhile, my face has to be turning all types of scarlet. How tactless can I get?

"Oh," I say dumbly, blinking at my reflecting. "Well- you know, if you want maybe one day you could always come eat with me and my friends. It might be kind of hard to fit you in at the table, but-" I laugh awkwardly, but abruptly fall silent at his dubious expression. "Or, I could maybe eat with you one day. If that's okay."

This time, however, Isaac's eyes seem to brighten. "That- I mean, sure. That would be great."

"Great!" I echo lightly, watching in the window as Isaac turns to study a tiny angel figurine on my desk. "I just- you know, a lot of people don't know this, but back in sixth grade Jade transferred schools for a year- some performing arts school, all the way up in Bakersfield. And Jade was really my only friend- she still is, actually- so every day I ended up eating lunch alone. She came back the next year; said she missed me, but I really think she just hated the uniforms there. And now, when I think of other people doing that- eating alone, I mean- I just feel bad."

"Most people wouldn't care," Isaac comments quietly. "Most people don't."

"That's because most people are too wrapped up in their own lives to take a look at what's going on around them," I retort, only realizing too late that it probably came out a bit rougher that I had intended. When I turn to look at Isaac he looks taken aback. "Sorry," I murmur. "I just- it's true. People can be idiots. Especially high schoolers."

Don't get me wrong, I'm not any saint- if I see someone eating alone in the cafeteria whom I don't personally know, I wouldn't do anything. I'd feel bad, but I wouldn't _do _anything. Maybe this makes me hypocritical. But sometimes it really does irritate me at the sheer _ignorance_ of the kids at my school, how easy it is for them to just overlook the things around them that don't matter to their own lives; and when they do notice, it's usually something bad. Being bullied because of my dyslexia comes to mind, even though that hasn't happened in the past year or two; but there are far worse examples that I can think of, like the epileptic girl in Jade's Biology class last year who had a seizure in the middle of a lesson, and someone had the nerve to film it.

Even so, I realize that my remark, without any forewarning, might come as a bit of a shock to Isaac. The last thing I expect him to do is to duck his head and murmur something which sounds suspiciously like, "Of course they are."

But I could be wrong. I mean, I'm probably wrong. So I frown and I don't say anything else, simply going over to the bed and sitting down again, reluctantly leaving my cherished window behind. "That's the way it is, I guess. With... people. I mean, don't get me wrong, I wouldn't call myself so much of a cynic-" I cut myself off, seeing the way Isaac is standing with his back to me, still seemingly engrossed by the little figurine as if it's the most fascinating thing he's seen in his life, and I sigh. "Anyway- on the subject of food, I just realized what an awful host I've been. Do you want anything? Something to drink?"

Isaac shakes his head, and as he turns to me I notice he's still holding the figure in his hand. It's only when I glance at it that he seems to realize he's still holding it, and hastily sets it on the bed. "No, I'm fine. Thanks."

"Okay- well, I'm thirsty, so I'm going to go get some water. You sure you don't want anything?" Isaac shakes his head again, and I nod once more, only saying over my shoulder as I pause at the doorway, "Go through my drawers and I will harm you."

He snorts. "Don't worry, I'll be good."

Down in the kitchen, I don't bother to switch on the light. The light from the fridge when I open it is enough for me. It's only when I'm pouring myself a glass of water that I first think I hear something. The sound is pretty indistinguishable- like a creaking of a door, maybe- and I know I shouldn't really give it much thought; after all, this is a pretty old house. But I can't help but tense up anyway.

It's nothing. I know that. My mind is probably frightening me again, just like it so seems to love doing. With Isaac upstairs, at night, in a dark room, it's almost the perfect setting for creepy. Of course I would think I heard something.

Then someone shouts from behind me- a man's voice, deep and sudden and _loud_- and I scream.

I'm not talking just a tiny, girly shriek, like someone handed you a frog or whatever. I mean, I _scream_, at the absolute top of my lungs, and when I spin around to see a man standing in the kitchen doorway holding a golf club over his head I only scream again and duck for cover behind the counter.

But at my wail, golf club man lowers his weapon slightly. "Rebecca?" He asks, and it's only then do I recognize the voice of my dad.

"Dad?" I ask, my voice coming out a good two octaves higher than I intended it to. "What are you doing?"

"What the hell?" Isaac's voice sound's from the end of the hallway, sounding slightly out of breath; him having just thundered down the stairs like a charging- well, comparing him to an elephant really wouldn't be right, the kid's more like a stick than anything else- a charging _whatever _to save me. Dad rounds on him, raising his golf club again, and I take this as my cue to leap up as Isaac shrinks back.

"Dad, don't," I exclaim, grabbing his back and attempting to pull his arms down. "Dad, he's my friend, please, Dad, I literally never have any friends over, this really isn't the opportune time to be threatening one with a skull fracture, _put the weapon down_..." Eventually, I do manage to get my dad to lower his club and I switch on the hallway light so that everybody can see each other fully.

"There," I say, glancing from a still rather-shaken looking Isaac to my father, who at least has the decency to look ashamed. "Now," I say, placing my hands on my hips and turning on him. "What the _hell_, Dad?"

"I get home and I see some random bicycle lying on our front lawn. When I come into the house I not only hear someone up in your bedroom but I also see someone in the kitchen, so I..."

"So, you grab your golf club from the closet and proceed to nearly kill me."

"By accident," my dad clarifies, running his free hand through his hair, looking tired. "And I wasn't actually going to hit you! Probably just tackle you..."

I would have been sterner on him were it not for the fact that Isaac has to chose this moment to suddenly burst out laughing. "It isn't funny!" I exclaim, rounding on him. "He was going to murder you, too!"

Isaac takes a minute to get himself together before he manages to reply. "It kind of is. No, it really is. Is this why you don't invite people over to your house often?"

"One of the reasons," I retort with a thin smile, trying my very best to keep from laughing myself. Even Dad is seeing the humor in the situation- the corners of his mouth are turned up at the ends, in the way that he does when he's trying to remain serious and it really isn't working, and I suddenly realize that I probably get that from him.

"Dad," I say, forcing myself to revert to seriousness once more. "This is Isaac. Isaac Lahey. We're working together on a project."

Dad's eyebrows slowly shoot up, and I can tell he's recalling our conversation from last night. "Isaac," he says, sticking out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

Isaac returns the gesture, nodding politely, and I take the opportunity to cut in. "Isaac's going to be staying for dinner tonight. Is that alright?"

Dad nods, still studying Isaac. "Of course. You're Robert Lahey's boy, aren't you? You work at the cemetery."

"Umm- yes, sir," Isaac nods, and Dad chews the corner of his lip pensively for a moment before he smiles, clapping Isaac on the shoulder and turning into the kitchen. "Well, Isaac, you're welcome to stay for dinner- not exactly sure what we can have, but you're welcome to stay."

"I was thinking we'd order pizza," I put in, already having the phone in my hand. Dad nods, his face lighting up- the man adores pizza as if it were his second born.

"Good idea. Should we get the usual?"

"Isaac, what do you want?" I ask, turning to him as I realize suddenly that he hasn't even told me if he likes pizza yet. Isaac shrugs, lingering in the doorway.

"Plain's fine for me, I guess. I really don't have pizza that often."

"Well, we usually get pepperoni. You like that?" He nods again, and I can't help but wonder why he's gone so clammy all of a sudden. "Okay. Pepperoni it is. We live right near the place, so it typically doesn't take more than fifteen minutes for them to deliver. Dad, can you order it? I'll just set the table- Isaac, a little help?"

Isaac nods, seeming grateful to have something to do as he springs into action, grabbing a handful of napkins from the counter as Dad takes the phone and steps out into the hallway. That's an old quirk of Dad's- even if he's just ordering pizza, he always makes his calls away from everyone else, which is exactly why I asked him to order in the first place.

"Hey," I murmur once I'm sure my dad's a safe distance away. "I'm really sorry about that. But you don't have to be nervous around him, really. He's just my dad." I grin, setting out two plates and only reminding myself at the last minute to place a third at the one never-used seat at the table. "He's cool, really. And, you know, he actually doesn't even golf, he just has those there so he can say that he does."

I glance up at Isaac to see him try to suppress a tiny grin by pursing his lips. "He's really nice," I continue, "trust me. He's just excited that I've actually invited over someone who isn't Jade- she's too loud for him, he says, even though he's totally not serious, since she's been half-living here ever since we were little."

Isaac sets down his last napkin and steps back. "I wasn't- I mean, I'm sorry. I'm just not used to coming over to people's houses is all."

"That's alright," I shrug. "Neither am I. On the plus side, you did seem all set to be my hero, the way you raced down the stairs like that."

"You screamed like you were being killed!" he exclaims, and I snort. 

"Wasn't that loud- liar. My scream isn't that loud."

He shrugs. "I'm just surprised no one bothered to call the cops after that."

I snort. "Oh, please. You should hear some of the sounds that come out of Mr. Cornish's house on weekends- trust me, my scream was nothing."

Isaac lets out a laugh that abruptly turns into a cough as Dad re-enters the room. "Pizza's ordered," he announces. "And Becca, I thought we've both decided that Tucker Cornish's affairs are his own business and that we would both be much better off never inquiring, ever?"

"It's okay, Daddy," I reply innocently. "I'm just trying to traumatize Isaac."

Dad snorts as he turns to the sink in order to wash his hands. "Watch out, Isaac."

I sigh, smirking at him. "Yeah, definitely with a golf club wielding maniac running rampant- Isaac should watch his back. _Right_, Dad?" I'm rewarded for my quip by my own father flicking water at me, and I shriek, taking refuge behind Isaac. "Dad! Come on!"

Dad, no longer having access to me, smirks smugly as he dries his hands, turning his attention to Isaac. "So, Isaac, do you play any sports?"

By the time pizza arrives, I'm surprised and rather impressed to find that Isaac and my dad seem to have developed a quick, easy rapport. They're sitting at the kitchen table conversing like old friends (my dad is a bigger comic book fan than I am, and also an army man, which Isaac proves to know quite a bit about), and I can't help but feel a bit warm inside as I watch them. It's so rare to see Dad ever looking genuinely happy and relaxed talking to anyone- mainly because he really just doesn't have any friends. And, when I think of it, it does make sense that Isaac and my dad would get along well- they're both quiet, smart, quick-witted and sort of dreamy. It's only when I pay for the pizza and carry it into the kitchen that they finally shut up, just to eat.

"You two can talk the ear off an elephant," I quip, sliding into my seat. Isaac rolls his eyes, and Dad raises his eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, have you heard yourself recently?"

"I'm not that bad."

"Of course not, Becca," Dad replies dryly, snatching a piece of pizza out of the box like he expects me to reach over and steal the whole thing away from him.

Over dinner we all talk, and I find that it's actually really nice to have another person eating with us for once. When Jade isn't over, dinners with Dad are either really quiet or really rowdy, depending on how tired he is that day. Isaac adds a new flavor to our conversation, and I find that it's actually really nice. And I know that Dad is just loving having another guy around. I know that he would never admit to this, but sometimes I think that he wishes he could have had a son- my dad and I get along great, but I know that if I had a brother than the two of them would be inseparable.

After dinner, Dad is more than eager to bring out some of his scrapbooks from his time in the army. Now, Dad is an army man, true- but he never was in any actual combat. He was in the army during the eighties, when there weren't really any big, active wars. But he was an army man, for about four years before he met my mother, and he still looks back on those memories with fondness. I know what he's doing as soon as he brings Isaac into the living room and reaches under the cabinet. I've already seen those albums a thousand times- I've practically got them memorized- but Isaac seems fascinated.

I settle down on the opposite end of the couch and try to text Jade, but she doesn't answer. After a moment I decide that I might as well work a bit on my reading, so I grab my book from the kitchen and return to read. I'm still working on _Pride and Prejudice_- it's a good book, but some of the words Austen uses are absolutely insane.

I manage to get through about ten minutes before I feel a headache begin- one of those really bad ones, that I usually get from reading something too complicated. I sigh, setting the book down on my lap. The headaches are the worst- mainly because there's absolutely nothing I can do about them except moan and maybe sleep a bit. I close my eyes, willing the darkness to calm the headache again. That sometimes works. One minute- one minute of darkness, and the quiet, soothing melody of Isaac's voice as he speaks to my father, and I'm sure everything will be fine.

When I open my eyes, the first thing I notice is that the room is completely silent. The second thing I notice is that the clock under the television reads eight-thirty.

Crap.

And then, when I turn towards Isaac, I notice the most surprising thing of all- he's leaning forward, his head in his hand, his breathing even- totally passed out.

Huh. Well, this isn't extremely awkward at all.

"Isaac," I murmur groggily, shifting on the couch to poke his back. He doesn't move. "Isaac," I say a bit louder, shaking his shoulder gently. This time he raises his head, blinking at me in drowsy confusion.

"I- Rebecca? What are- why-"

"I fell asleep. I guess you did, too. It's eight-thirty."

As Isaac's head turns to look at the clock as well, his face seems to go from pink to white to grey all in a matter of seconds. "Oh," he murmurs in a faraway sort of voice. "Crap."

In an instant he's sprung up from the couch and is power-walking out the door. "Isaac?" I ask, rising to my feet and ignoring the paperback that falls from my lap as I follow him. "Isaac! Hey!"

I just manage to stop him as he reaches the front door, and I grab his shoulder. "Slow down! You can't ride all the way home!"

"Yes I can," he replies, and his voice sounds so anxious that I nearly let him go out of surprise. He turns back to me, and his face is near-frantic. "I've got to go, thank you so much, I'm sorry."

"Isaac, I can get my father to drive you- Isaac, wait!" He doesn't stop as he mounts his bike, even as I follow him out the door.

"I'm sorry Rebecca, I've got to go, I just... I'm really late. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

I don't know what to say as he begins pedaling away. "I- I'll see you tomorrow, then!" I call, and he throws a quick wave over his shoulder that makes me marvel at the fact that he doesn't cause himself to topple off of his bike.

I have no idea what to make of Isaac's sudden departure as I head back inside. Yeah, he told his dad he'd be home by seven-thirty- he's only an hour late. Why did he seem like he was panicking so much? And what was that note in his voice- that note of almost-dread, that for some reason made my blood run cold?

I'm freaked out, to say the least, and even as I settle down to sleep I find that I can't get my mind off of him, a lone, frightened-looking boy pedaling home in the dark. My dreams that night are filled with scared voices, whispered secrets and bodies that fly back at the impact of a car- images that, when I wake, leave me feeling as if I haven't slept at all.

**AN: I know, I know, it's way too freaking long and annoying. I couldn't find a good spot to trim it. So sorry!**


	5. Informal

When I get to school the next morning, I'm surprised to find that Jade isn't at her locker to greet me like she usually is each morning. As I pull out my books my eyes scan the crowded hallway, searching for any hint of her dark skin or her extremely noticeable brightly colored outfit of the day, but she isn't anywhere in sight.

By the time she finally does get to school there are barely five minutes left before final bell, and I hurriedly fill her in on the events of the previous evening as she rushed to organize her books in her bag.

"Maybe he's Cinderella," she suggests with a shrug, slinging her bag over her shoulder before being distracted by a girl waving to her from the other end of the hallway.

"No, I really don't think he is," I reply dryly as Jade grins widely at the other girl, waving over her shoulder at her before turning back to me with an apologetic smile.

"Well, why don't you ask him then? Maybe his dad's just super neurotic over him being late."

I shrug, chewing the corner of my lip. "But you didn't even see him, Jade. It was like he was... panicked. I don't care how neurotic he is, it doesn't really matter. It scared me."

Jade shrugs her thin shoulders, glancing up at the clock nervously before pushing herself away from the lockers with her foot. "I really don't know- his father scares me. So does his house. Actually, a lot of things scare me about that kid, and probably the least intimidating thing about him is he himself. See you in English?"

I nod, still frowning even as she walks away. I'm worrying about Isaac, just as I have been ever since he ran out of the house last night, and I can tell that I'm not going to feel any better until I speak to him. While walking to homeroom I scan the hallways, searching for a sign of his usual baggy sweatshirt amidst the throng. My efforts, however, are fruitless, and I step into homeroom just before the late bell rings feeling dejected.

English class seems to dredge on for hours, and I can't recall a slower class all year. I'm almost to the point of tearing my hair out when the bell finally rings, and I practically race to French class.

However, when I get there I quickly realize that I had been waiting for nothing. He's slouched at his desk in the back corner when I arrive, his hood pulled up over his face- I'm not sure if it's to block out everyone else or to keep the rest of the world away from him. He won't meet my gaze, even though I stare at him like a total creeper for a good two minutes before class starts and even hiss his name a few times. French class passes leaving me feeling almost as bad as I have all night. My one consolation is that he's quite clearly alive, which I suppose is quite an improvement over the images tormenting me in my dreams all night.

He still seems intent on ignoring my existence in Chemistry class. After that, I can't seem to sit still in Algebra, and I'm sure Jade notices- though she has the tact not to say anything of it. As always seems to be the case with Isaac- especially when I really, really want to speak with him- I don't actually get my chance until History class the next period.

Even though our project is technically over, after I place the flash drive containing our project onto the growing pile on Mr. Westover's desk, I sit down in the back of the room right next to him. He glances over at me, and though I'm barely able to see his eyes past the hood he still wears over his head I can see that he looks surprised- surprised but relieved as well, as if he'd been hoping I would chose to sit next to him. However, if he had expected a friendly greeting he's sorely mistaken when, as I place my notebook on my desk and begin to flip though the pages to find a blank one, I murmur just quietly enough so that we can both hear, "Well?"

He blinks at me. "Well what?"

"Well? What the _hell _was that last night?"

Isaac shrugs his shoulders, seeming to curl into himself a bit more as he leans over his desk, as if he's attempting to make himself as small as possible. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I just- my dad- he hates it when-" He cuts himself off, sighing heavily. "Rebecca, I'm really sorry, okay?"

I snort softly. "Sorry? Are you kidding me? Isaac, it was pitch black! You could have gotten hit by a car! My dad could have just driven you home if you had waited, you'd probably have gotten home a lot faster, and I was literally worrying about you all night!"

He glances at me, expression unreadable. "You were?" he asks, a subtle hint of incredulity in his voice. I roll my eyes.

"Yes!" I exclaim, spinning towards him, my eyes narrowed. "You freaked me out! I kept having dreams that you rode off of a cliff or got hit by a car or abducted by the mafia or some- Isaac, will you look at me?" I pause suddenly, frowning at the hood of his sweatshirt. He notices me glaring at it, and self-consciously pulls it tighter around his head. "Hey," I say, my voice shifting from critical to quizzical. "It's not that cold in here. Can't you take that hood off?"

He shakes his head, not looking at me again. "It's freezing."

He's a better liar than I had originally thought- he matches his words with a slight shudder that truly does give off the impression that he's feeling a bit cold. But something is off- no, something's more than off, and it isn't difficult to tell.

"Hey," I say, and my voice comes out much softer than it had been a moment before. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

He shakes his head quickly, but I can see his expression better, and my natural talent at reading emotions comes in. Even with Isaac, whom I find absurdly difficult to read, I can tell that he's anxious; it's easy to see that he's hiding something.

"Tell me," I persist quietly, glancing over to make sure that Mr. Westover is still pre-occupied with counting out the projects, but Isaac shakes his head again, stubbornly hunching over in his desk.

"Isaac, come on. Did something happen to you?" My face suddenly pales, and I feel a bit sick. "Oh god, you didn't get hit by a car, did you?"

"What- no. No," he assures me hastily, and my frown deepens.

"Well? What is it then? Isaac, if something happened-"

"Nothing happened!" He says, and his voice is much stronger now- defensive.

I lean forward in my desk, matching his posture almost exactly. "Then why are you hiding your face?" I ask quietly.

I think he can tell that the ruse is up- I know something's wrong, and it's becoming clear I'm not going to quit without an answer. He sighs heavily, his hand reaching up towards his hood and slowly pulling it aside to reveal his left cheek. "It isn't anything, okay? I just fell off my bike last night is all-"

But I'm not listening anymore. "Holy-" I begin to murmur before cutting myself off abruptly, reminding myself to try to refrain from swearing in school. But seeing what's in front of me, it's very difficult not to.

Isaac's entire left side of his face is covered in painful, nasty looking purple bruises. They seem to begin at his cheekbone and extend down to his jaw. It doesn't look as if he had been punched, or else I would be really worried; more like he'd been hit with something really, really hard numerous times.

"What happened?" I demand, my voice coming out in a gasp as I reach out to lay a hand on his arm. But he flinches back as if the action hurts him, and is already concealing his face in his sweatshirt once more.

"I told you, I fell off my bike," he replies, his voice low. "I put some ice on it this morning. I'll be fine."

I want to protest, to tell him that injuries like that look like they'll need more than a bit of ice (a new _face _might even be ideal), to tell him that there just isn't any way someone could get so banged up from just falling off of a bike, to say that _'no, I don't believe you, now just tell me what's the matter and we can make it better'. _But I don't. Instead I fall silent- unable to speak, barely able to think, images of that ugly purple bruise flashing over and over again in my head. Silently, I turn back to the teacher, and Isaac does as well.

Needless to say I really don't get much work done that period.

xXxXxXxXxXx

"So," Jade chirps as she falls into step beside me, startling me out of my haze. Well, sort of startling me out of it- the fog that I've been trapped in ever since seeing that massive bruise on the side of Isaac's face will take a bit more than Jade's cheeriness to cure. "Lee and Holly are finally going together. At least, that's what I heard from Averie. We're all going to be meeting up at Averie's house tonight with our dresses to get ready- I know you aren't going, but do you maybe want to come to Averie's anyway? It'll be fun, and only for an hour…" She trails off, leaving the offer hanging in the air tantalizingly. But I don't bite, frowning at the empty air in front of me as troubling thoughts concerning the exact source of Isaac's bruise circle through my head.

"Hey," Jade says, her voice quieter this time as she places a hand on my arm. "What's up? You okay?"

I sigh, shaking my head a bit in an effort to clear out the dark cobwebs that seem to pester my thoughts, turning everything back to a rough, dark patch of purple against pale skin. "Yeah," I murmur. "Of course. Sorry. Just a bit worried about something, is all."

Jade frowns. "Well, what something?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Nothing, I just- Isaac-" I pause suddenly, eyes narrowing as a thought occurs to me. "Hey, Jade?" I ask suddenly, trying to keep my voice casual. "Quick question- how can you tell when someone's lying to you?"

"Why? Who's lying?"

"Isaac," I reply simply. "Now, how can you tell?"

She shrugs, chewing the corner of her lip thoughtfully. "Well, does he fidget a lot? Does he meet your eye? Does he seem like he's got an answer for everything? Those are all indications of dishonesty. Why, is he still being shifty about last night?"

"Yeah, and he's got this huge bruise on his face. Says he got it from falling off his bike, but it looks more like someone tried to smash his head in against a brick wall."

Jade's dark eyes widen. "You're kidding!" I shake my head. "Get out! Well, do you believe him?"

"Of course not," I reply. "Why else would I be asking you?"

Jade shrugs, shaking her head slightly as we reach the door to the cafeteria. "You know, whatever. If he wants to be weird, let him." She reaches for my arm, waving to Daniel as he sits down at our regular lunch table. "Come on, Holly and Averie should get here soon. Did you know, I think even Kayla's got a date- Becca? What are you doing? Come on."

Even though Jade has got a firm grip on my wrist and is trying to lead me to our table, I've halted at the doorway and that's where my feet remain planted. "Umm, actually," I say suddenly, "I kind of have somewhere else to be today."

Jade pauses, her expression morphing to one of bewilderment. "What? Where do you need to be, the library?"

I shake my head. "No- actually- sorry Jade, but I think I already made plans. Can you survive without me for one lunch period?"

Jade's face goes slack, and her eyes blink in confusion. "You're… eating with someone else?"

"Umm, yeah. Just for today, though."

"Who?" She asks. Her voice is quiet.

"Just Isaac," I shrug, wondering why she has such a funny look on her face. "I promised I'd eat with him."

"Oh." She replies, and for a moment I see something odd- almost like a flicker of hurt- flash across her face. However, it's gone in a blink of an eye.

"Hold on," I say, frowning. "You aren't upset, right?"

"Upset?" She blinks innocently, shrugging her shoulders. "Of course not, silly. Why would I be upset? Go; eat lunch with your friend." She doesn't say this with bitterness, but I still feel unsettled somehow- even as she waves back at me brightly while walking towards our usual lunch table, where Holly and Averie are now waiting. Holly glances at me quizzically when she sees that I'm not following, and I see her whisper something to Averie. The other girl, however, simply rolls her eyes before greeting Jade with a bright smile.

I ignore them as I go up and get my lunch, even though I can still feel Averie's gaze on my back all the way up the line- and I especially ignore the slight stab of pain in my gut at their reactions to my departure. After all, why should they care if I want to eat with someone else for a day? It's just lunch, it won't change the world.

Outside, I spot Isaac almost immediately- it's a warm day and expected to be an even warmer night, and he is literally the only student eating outside who's wearing a hood over his head. Yes, he still hasn't abandoned the hood- not that I can say that I blame him. I mean, if I looked like I came off on the wrong end of a tussle with a brick wall, I wouldn't be so eager to show off the battle wounds either. Just as he had said, he's sitting alone- in a quiet little table off to the side of the courtyard where the sun is shining just enough to feel nice but not to be irritating when you're trying to eat.

"Hey," I greet, placing my tray across the table from his and sliding into the seat in front of him. I must have startled him, because he immediately straightens up from his former hunched position, eyes wide until he recognizes me. "I found you," I add with a tiny smile, but it doesn't do much to ease to look of apprehension that's suddenly come into his face upon seeing me.

"Oh," he murmurs, and I can see shades of the bruise from under his hood as he lifts his head up higher to greet me. "Hi."

I can tell by the look on his face that he wasn't actually expecting any company today, and it causes me to frown. I told him yesterday that I would eat with him- did he think I was lying? "What?" I ask. "I said I'd eat with you, didn't I?" He nods wordlessly and I do the same, appeased. "Now," I say, figuring that- as much as he would probably like to- there isn't much point beating around the bush. "I'd like you to tell me what happened last night."

It's phrased as a suggestion, not an order, and my voice is softer- much gentler than it was earlier in History class. The bruises on his face leave me unable to be really upset with him- whatever happened last night, he clearly bears the scars of it. Now I've just got to figure out exactly _what _it was that happened.

As soon as I say the words "_last night_", Isaac draws himself back in again, his face shifting to a totally blank one. Somehow, his expression unsettles me more than any of the possibilities I had been running over in my head as to how he got so injured. "I told you," he replies quietly. "I was late- really late, and I told my father I would be home by seven-thirty. I had to go. I know it was sort of rude- my dad just doesn't like it when I come home late."

"So you just ran out?"

"Yeah-" he winces slightly, studying his hands. "I'm really sorry."

One of these days, I'm going to need to tell him to stop apologizing. He does it far too much, even when there isn't any need to. I shrug my shoulders. "Just… don't do that, okay? I get that you don't want to get in trouble, but-" I cut myself off suddenly. "Your face. What happened to your face then?"

"I told you," he replies. "I fell off my bike."

His hood has slid off of his head a bit without him realizing it, and it gives me a much better view of his bruise. While it physically hurts me to look at it (I can only imagine how it must feel to Isaac), studying it tells me a lot- and one of the things I can easily determine is that the only conceivable way for him to sustain an injury like that from falling off of a bike would be for him to fall headfirst and literally faceplant into the ground on his left side. However, that doesn't make sense- I mean, wouldn't there have been blood? Maybe gravel on his face? Burn marks from the road?

"How?" I ask tentatively, halfway torn between wanting to figure this out once and for all and not wanting to find out any more, just so I could actually believe that he wouldn't be lying to me about this. Just so I can put the thing to rest once and for all.

"It was dark," he replied simply. "I went flying. I'm not the most graceful person as a rule anyway, it really isn't that surprising."

Believe me, I can sympathize with him there. I picture Isaac last night; riding home in pitch darkness, frantic, barely able to see where he's going. Something trips the bike up- he jerks- he lets go- he's suddenly airborne, and he twists to find balance where there is none- he hits the ground. Maybe he hit his face on something, too, like a lamp-post. It isn't that far-fetched, is it?

No. Of course it isn't. After all, why would Isaac lie?

"How far were you from home?" I inquire, my voice tinged with worry now. If he was that far away, he couldn't have had an easy time walking home.

"Not far. Just a few minutes."

I'm silent for a moment as I stare at my hands, absently picking at a hangnail until my finger is nearly bleeding. I'm just not sure what to think. The thing is, I want to believe Isaac- I really do. I can't stand when people lie to me, and if he was hurt by someone- maybe ambushed in the darkness and beat up or something- I'd want to know, because I'd want to help. But I really, really want to believe that Isaac is telling me the truth.

Besides- he's meeting my eyes. He looks uncomfortable, but I'm pretty sure that's just the topic- he isn't fidgeting or even stuttering.

He has to be telling the truth. He's got to.

He fell off his bicycle.

"Maybe…" I say at last, not looking up from my nails. "Maybe you aren't as good with that bike as you like to boast."

Then I smirk and Isaac laughs- a relieved sort of laugh, breathy and not entirely whole. Almost as soon as he does he winces, and I grit my teeth in sympathy. "Ooh, don't laugh!"

We're both pretty eager to move on after that's all settled; I can see it in his face just as well as I'm sure he can see it in mine, and I take the lead to change topics. "Anyway- my dad really, really likes you, which is cool because he very rarely admits out loud to liking anyone."

"Your father's really nice," Isaac nods, finally deeming it safe to begin to eat his lunch, and I glance back to my own sandwich to find it just as untouched as it is. Oh. Right. This is lunch. You're actually supposed to eat.

"You two sure had a lot to talk about, too," I comment, meticulously tearing away the crusts and depositing them in a neat pile on my tray before finally taking a bite of my lunch. "Dad wants to go to one of the lacrosse games now, after all you told him about them."

Isaac glances at me sharply, his eyes lit up. "Really? He does?"

"Yeah." He suddenly looks so gleeful, even though he tries to restrain it, that I actually smirk a bit. "What? You want _more_ loyal groupies cheering you on at your games? Come on, I'm sure you already have plenty of fans. Your dad goes to your games, doesn't he?"

Isaac shakes his head. "Not ever, really. He's always busy."

"Oh," I say dully, crinkling my nose. My dad can't always come to my swim meets, but at least he tries. he isn't _always_ busy. How can anyone be always busy? "Well, then. When's the next game?"

"Umm… the semi-finals are in a couple of weeks, actually. March sixth."

"Great. We can probably make it."

"You're coming too?" Isaac asks, and the excitement in his voice is unmistakable. I grin slightly.

"Well, I'm not cruel enough to let my dad go alone," I reply with a casual shrug. From the way he's acting, you would think the kid never had anyone come to a game in his life- although, if what he says about his dad is accurate, that maybe that's true. I feel a sudden pang of sympathy at the thought of Isaac, every game, anxiously scanning the bleachers for that one face he always hopes will be there- smiling at him, beyond proud of him- and never finding it; until one day he just stops looking. "Typically lacrosse games aren't really my thing- but of course I would go, just to see you play."

Isaac's face breaks into a wide grin- no, he's downright beaming, and I'm happy that I chose to bring up lacrosse just to see him smile so widely.

"Are you going to the formal tonight, you think?" I ask offhandedly, just to make conversation as I poke at some weird thing that vaguely resembles a pear sitting on my tray. I'm as sick of hearing about the formal as anyone- but since it's all anyone can seem to talk about lately, it just sort of slips out.

Isaac shrugs. "Are you going?"

"_No_," I reply immediately, shaking my head with a bit too much enthusiasm. "Tonight, I am staying home and hanging out with my dad- that's all. Formals _really_ aren't my thing."

Isaac frowns, and I mimic his expression, confused. "What?"

"Nothing," he replies quickly. "I was just- I mean, are you sure you're not going?"

"Yeah. Pretty sure. Very sure, actually."

"Oh." Isaac falls silent, and I tentatively nibble at the pear-thing before abruptly slamming it back on my tray in horror. I have no idea what it's supposed to be, but it most pronouncedly is _not_ a pear.

"If you were, though," Isaac says suddenly, and I glance up at him from my studying of the pear-monstrosity. "I mean, if you _were_ going- who do you think you'd go with?"

I shrug, giving him a weird look. "I don't know. I doubt anyone would ask me, and I've got no one else to ask. Probably Jade, and our other friends. But that doesn't really matter, since I'm not going."

Isaac ponders this, nodding thoughtfully. "Oh. Okay. A friend, then."

"Yeah. _Why_ are you asking this?"

"Oh, I was just wondering is all," he shrugs nonchalantly. I'm not convinced, but I figure it probably isn't worth pursuing at the moment, so I allow the subject to drop.

For the rest of lunch, Isaac and I do something that I haven't done during lunch for a very long time; we just talk. One-on-one lunchtime chats between Jade and I stopped as soon as Jade began to eat lunch with her group of friends; now I normally find myself remaining mostly silent at lunch, content to watch the others just buzz away. Talking to someone and having them listen to me without the added distraction of five other people vying for their attention is nice, and it's something that Jade and I don't get to do nearly enough. Isaac tells more stories about himself and Jackson Whittemore and his older cousin, who's name I learn is Camden, and I in turn speak more about Jade and my vocal coach and my own recent clumsy mishaps- to make him feel a bit better about his face. It's a nice lunchtime, peaceful and pleasant and overall just fun, and for the first time all year I'm actually beaming as I return to class.

"You had fun," Jade mutters, catching up to me for a moment in the hallway. Her tone is casual but her expression seems uncharacteristically dark; I write it off as probably being something Averie or one of the others said that's still bothering her.

"Yeah, actually," I reply brightly. "I kind of did."

xXxXxXxXx

Whatever was bothering Jade seems to have mostly vanished by the end of that day. As we place our books in our locker at the end of the day, she's chattering brightly about her dress for the dance, and I'm more than happy to indulge her. Fridays are always my favorite days of the week, and without a doubt the best part of Friday is going home. Putting away my books for the weekend has always given me some strange sort of satisfaction; almost like a power-rush, I can't really explain it. Jade could be talking about dying my hair green while I'm sleeping and I'd be glad to listen to whatever she has to say; Friday afternoons always put me in a good mood.

I don't notice that Isaac has come up behind me until Jade suddenly falls silent, her dark eyes fixed on something just over my shoulder. I turn around to find Isaac standing there, his face a bit pink but his eyes looking determined in a way that I've never seen from him before. "Rebecca," he greets. "Hi."

"Hey, Isaac," I reply with a reasonable approximation of cheerfulness. "What's up?"

"I actually need to talk to you about something- alone. I mean, um, if that's okay..." he trails off, glancing at Jade. Before I can speak, Jade's face suddenly darkens and she pushes herself away from her locker, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Of course," she replies, her voice sounding distant. "No problem. Talk to you later, Bec."

"Jade-" I start to call after her, but she simply waves at me over her shoulder, flashing a bright smile that I immediately recognize as being her show-smile; the one she uses when speaking to teachers and freshmen and people she really doesn't want to talk to right now. The one that she never, ever uses with me.

Great.

Both Isaac and my eyes follow her down the hallway until she vanishes outside, the vague scent of her lavender perfume the only indication that she had ever been here in the first place. Isaac slowly turns back to me, his face uneasy. "I- didn't interrupt anything, did I?"

"Not that I know of," I reply, my eyes still stuck on the spot where Jade disappeared; her little smile replaying over and over in my mind. What's wrong now?

"There was... actually something I wanted to ask you."

I turn my attention back to Isaac. "Right. Sorry." He's here now, right in front of me, and he's the one I have to focus on. I can worry about Jade later. "What was it you needed to ask?"

Isaac inhales deeply and then begins to say something, but cuts himself off before he can even get a word out. Sighing, he bites his lip and tries again; this time, he seems to succeed. "I actually wanted," he says, his bright blue eyes fixed on my own in a way that I find myself unable to turn away from, "to ask you... to go to the formal with me."

His words don't hit me for a few seconds, but when they do I find that any words I could say seem completely frozen in my throat. I can only blink at him, and I feel myself unconsciously shy away from him a bit. He asked me- _me_- to the formal. Isaac just asked me to the formal. I keep repeating this over and over in my head, because even though I'm registering his words in my mind, it hasn't really hit me yet. _Isaac just asked me to the formal!_

And, despite all my previous insistences, all my convictions that I would not go _no matter what_, I find that I want to say yes. I _really_ want to say yes.

"I- I-" My eyes are wide and I realize that I must look like a blubbering idiot, but it's hard to care. Because, no matter how much I want to say yes, I know that I can't.

Not only do I not have a dress, I already told everyone that I would not be going, and I already made a promise to my dad that I would spend tonight with him. I can't just back out on him- I can't do that to him, that's wrong. I promised him I'd spend time with him tonight.

_"He bails on you all the time," _I hear Jade's words from Wednesday echo in my head, and I feel the same pang of pain that I felt the first time I heard them. Yes, maybe it's true. Maybe my dad does have a tendency to back out of plans that we make a lot- whether he's too tired or he just plain forgets, or whatever the reason. But I'm not like that. I don't make promises I can't keep, and that's why no matter how much I'd like to- and trust me, I'd absolutely love to, because never in a million years did I dream that anyone would actually ask me to the formal, and to have it be _Isaac_ of all people- I know that I can't go with Isaac.

"Isaac... I'm really sorry. But I can't go."

His face falls, and for some reason I feel tears sting at the back of my eyes as I look at him. He looks for all the world like I just kicked him in the stomach, all the light that had been in his face abruptly draining away all at once. He stares at me, wide-eyed, as his face somehow gets even more red than it already was. "I meant what I said when I told you I wasn't going- I'm sorry, it's just that this is really short-notice and I have no dress and I've already made plans tonight with my dad, and I just can't break plans like that because that isn't fair, and..." I'm know I'm blabbering, and I can only imagine how much I must sound like an idiot, so I allow myself to trail off. As I do, the crushed look on Isaac's face seems to vanish, replaced by a mask of casual indifference as he slowly nods.

"Oh," he says simply, shrugging his shoulders. "Okay. That's fine. I understand."

He turns and begins to walk away from me, exactly like Jade did only minutes ago, and I feel my eyes fill up with tears. "Isaac!" I call, my voice catching on the last syllable, but he doesn't turn around.

"See you Monday, Rebecca," he calls flatly, waving over his shoulder at me- exactly like Jade did. At least he doesn't turn around. If he smiled at me too, I think I would just start screaming right in the middle of the hallway. And I already feel enough like screaming as it is.


	6. Alone

I don't scream, but I do cry- as soon as I get home from school I run upstairs, slam my bedroom door, and bury my face in my pillow, flat-out sobbing.

My head is just a mess of so many emotions that I don't even know how to work through them. Anytime I close my eyes I see their faces again; Jade, her empty smile and stony eyes staring back at me, Isaac, all the hope and light draining out of his face simply because I said no. I hurt them- I hurt them both, even if with Jade I have no idea how- and aside from being completely confused, I feel totally miserable.

I hate crying because it makes me feel weak, and I really don't like to feel weak. When I feel weak, I feel powerless; and I hate feeling like I've got no control. But crying does that- it's just a chaotic outpouring of pure emotion that I have basically no control over and I hate it. I hate the fact that I cry, and I hate the fact that I seem to cry so easily whenever I get upset. I know there really isn't any point in crying over Jade and Isaac- after all, I know that Jade at least can never hold a grudge for long- but it still hurts me, so I cry anyway.

The one good thing about crying is that when it's over I do often feel at least a little bit better. Jade mentioned that once, I think- crying is a scientifically proven way to relieve stress. So I guess that crying is natural, in a way- but that still doesn't mean I like it. The only good thing crying does is maybe make you feel a bit better.

But when that doesn't work, I've got an even better way to relieve stress.

It takes about ten minutes for my sobs to die down to choked hiccups, and another few for them to die away entirely. Less than five minutes after the last of my weeping has finally ceased, I'm in the water.

Crying is helpful and staring out my skylight is soothing, but nothing makes me feel better when I'm upset than swimming. I think that more than anything it has to with the power- when I'm crying I feel sort of helpless, like there isn't anything I can do to make things better. But there's a certain surety to the water, a type of magic that's clear to me every time I dive in. In the water I feel powerful, far more powerful then I ever feel anytime else. When I'm swimming, I feel strong. And sometimes when I'm having a bad day, feeling strong is exactly what I need to make things better.

It feels like I'm in there for hours, gliding through the water, my arms smoothly slicing through the waves as I continue to push my body to keep on going, to the end of the pool and then back again. To me, it's easy to lose myself while swimming; the endless cycle of laps, the crystal blue of the water- which suddenly strikes me as being so like Isaac's eyes- the minute curve of my arms as I chop through the waves, the burn of my muscles as I continue to push myself to keep going, faster and faster until I'm nearly certain I'm setting a new record for myself. I only stop when I literally feel as if I'll pass out in the water if I even attempt to swim another lap. Not willing to get out of the water just yet, however, I allow myself to sink back among the waves, wincing as my abused muscles cry out in protest. Cradled now, floating silently in the water and gazing up at the rapidly darkening sky, it's peaceful. It's easy to think- so that's what I do, because I know I'll have to get around to it some time.

Isaac invited me to the formal. He actually worked up the courage to approach me and ask me if I would go to the formal with him. The shock is still just as fresh as it was the moment the words came out of his mouth.

I realize that this probably means one thing that alarms me more than anything else today- Isaac likes me. Or, at least, he probably does. I mean, maybe he just asked me as a friend, because he didn't have anyone else to go with and thought that I would- but no, I saw the look on his face when he came up to me. Remember how I said I'm very good at reading people? Well, in that moment Isaac was just as open as Jade or Dad, and the look on his face was all too clear. That wasn't platonic. He was genuinely asking me out because he's interested in me- as more than a friend- and wanted to go to the formal with me.

This is a shock in itself. The fact that a boy likes me- I mean, the fact that a boy actually, genuinely notices me as something more than Jade's quieter friend and likes me for who I am- makes me feel all weird inside. I don't know how to describe it; sort of uncomfortable, but really warm and a little bit giddy at the same time. I've never had a boy like me before- well, at least not like that. I've been asked out before- once by Kyle, before he got his cheerleader girlfriend, on a double date with Jade and Daniel. But Kyle and I were just friends at the time, and still are; any other boys who have noticed I exist at Beacon Hills High really only see me as Jade's best friend- nothing more. The fact that someone could actually like and take a genuine interest in me is thrilling.

And it may or may not have to do with the fact that I might feel the same way about him. maybe. A little bit. I mean, I have only known him for less than a week.

But could Isaac have noticed me before then, maybe?

Now so many things that I couldn't figure out before suddenly makes sense; the way Isaac looked at me sometimes, the way he could sometimes shift from teasing to shy in the blink of an eye- were those all because Isaac _liked _me?

But that only brings me to the bigger problem; the fact that I turned him down. To get one thing clear, I don't regret my choice, at all. I'm glad I stuck to my guns and chose to abide by my promise to Dad, even if I really did want to go with Isaac to the formal after all. My problem is that Isaac had seemed, even though he did his best not to show it, upset about me not going with him. And if he's the type of guy to get angry when a girl turns him down then we have a whole new problem on our hands.

But I'm sure that isn't it, right? I mean, he was probably just upset- he was clearly nervous about asking me, and being turned down must have stung. I'm sure he isn't _that_ type of guy.

That brings me to my second problem, and the one that's really making my head hurt- Jade. Normally I have no trouble figuring out exactly what's bothering her and working it out with her; but in this case I literally have absolutely no idea what I've done to hurt her.

I look back on the past day. While she had been in a rush this morning she had seemed perfectly fine; in fact, the problems with Jade only seemed to really start at lunch, when I chose to eat... with Isaac.

And then Jade was just fine after school... until Isaac came over and asked to speak to me alone.

No. No way. There just isn't any way for it to be possible. I mean, Jade can't be... jealous, can she? Why would she be? Not that Jade isn't known for being a bit possessive- I'm sure that Daniel can attest to that- but why should Jade care if I'm making a new friend in Isaac? She has plenty of friends, and I never get all upset over her spending time with them. Why should she be so seemingly adverse to me spending time with Isaac, in that case?

When I finally pull myself out of the pool and wrap a towel around my shoulders to get dry, it's already dark. Dad should be due home any minute, and once I'm appropriately dry I immediately take the opportunity to rush into the kitchen and put on some frozen broccoli and take out the meat for hamburgers- one of Dad's favorites. I even take the liberty of selecting a movie for us to watch- Dad and I share a love of movies from Hollywood's golden age, so I pick the film _All About Eve _from our DVD lineup and set it on the coffee table for later.

I'm almost excited- it seems that as I get older Dad and I don't get nearly as many opportunities to spend time together as I would like. It's nice just to be able to hang out, him and me; to just be father and daughter, like we were when I was little. It's wonderful to be close.

Six o'clock passes, and I have the hamburgers cooking on the stove. I try texting Jade; there's no answer. The same goes for Isaac. Six-thirty and the table is set, French fries in the oven. Seven and the hamburgers are burning slightly in their pan even as I tend to them. Dad still isn't home. Eight o'clock passes and the French fries are almost alarmingly brown, and that's when I decide I can't wait for Dad any longer. By eight-thirty I've started the movie in the living room, and that night I eat dinner alone.

Dad gets home at nine o'clock. I hear him from the living room as he enters the house, and by the time I paused the movie and sprinted to meet him he's already halfway up the stairs. "Hey," I greet, and he turns wearily to look at me. "You came home late today."

He nods, rubbing his temple. "Yeah... sorry, I should have told you."

I shake my head, trying my best to keep my disappointment out of my tone and clear from my face. "No, it- it's fine. I made dinner, but I couldn't wait any longer. I- I thought we were going to spend time together tonight."

"Oh..." he says slowly, his face paling slightly as he realizes what he's done. "Oh, Becca, I'm sorry. Really, I am, I just- I had to work late tonight, and I forgot all about it..."

"It's fine, Dad," I say hastily, shaking my head. "Don't worry. Just... go to bed. You're tired."

Dad sighs, reluctantly turning back up the stairs. "I really am sorry, sweetie," he says once he reaches the top. "I didn't mean to let you down."

"It's okay," I reply quietly. "You didn't let me down at all."

As Dad vanished into his room I sigh heavily and return to my movie. At least watching Bette Davis and Anne Baxter battle it out on screen makes me feel a bit better about myself. Not that I blame Dad- I mean, I can't, not with how hard he works- but it sometimes sort of... hurts.

But hey, that's the way it is, right? We're lucky to have as much as we do, even with Dad working like a madman, and for that I am grateful. There isn't any complaining from me- ever.

I curl up on the couch in the dark room, absently chewing on a lock of my hair, and try to lose myself in the actions of the characters on screen. It's almost easy; the light of the moon shines in from the window, casting a silvery sheen on the coffee table, and by the end of the movie I feel myself near sleep.

Ten minutes after the credits have finished and the television screen has gone blank I'm still curled up on the couch in complete darkness. I'm in that little halfway point between sleep and wakefulness- you know, the one where you're thinking about something and watching it happen right in front of you, and you drowsy mind sort of knows that it's just a dream but at the same time doesn't quite get it.

I'm watching me and Jade. We're dancing, a complicated twisting and swirling of limbs to soft piano music that Jade might conceivably be able to pull off in real life but I know I never could. It's peaceful, just the two of us all alone, and Jade laughs brightly- her true laugh, not like the smile she gave me this afternoon.

I'm sinking deeper into sleep, content to rest in the peace of this moment between Jade and I, but I'm startled by the sound of a soft ringing near my ear which seems to grow increasingly more urgent with every passing second, unmercifully dragging me from my slumber.

_My phone, _I realize, recognizing the familiar ringing that indicates Jade calling me.

_Jade's calling me. _Oh.

I'm awake in an instant, scrambling for my cell phone. It's exactly on the coffee table where I left it, but somehow it takes me longer to manage to answer the call than I would have liked. "Hello?" I ask as I press the phone to my ear, my voice somewhat groggy from my near-sleep.

"Rebecca?" Jade's voice is soft, as if she's whispering into the phone and it sounds like she's been crying. I'm instantly more alert. "Becca? I- I don't- something happened."

"Well, I can gather that, if you're crying," I retort. My words might be harsh but my tone is nothing other than concerned. "What's the matter?"

"It- I- oh my god-" Her voice breaks on the last word and before I know it Jade's sobbing again, and I'm looking about the dark room somewhat helplessly. If I were there with her I could help, but now, isolated with only a phone line to keep us in contact with each other, I feel utterly helpless.

No. I'm not helpless. I still have my words. "Jade," I say, my voice much more gentle now, but far sterner. "I need you to calm down. It's going to be alright, just calm down and tell me what happened. This way I can help."

She takes a deep, gasping breath. "Right. You're right, I- I'm sorry. It's just... oh god, Becca, it's Lydia. Lydia Martin."

"Lydia Martin? What happened?"

"She-" Jade pauses, as if she can't seem to spit the words out, and I can practically see herself gritting her teeth and forcing herself to speak. "She was attacked."

"Attacked?" I sit up straighter, my eyes widening in alarm. "What do you mean, attacked how?"

"I- I don't know..." Jade sounds as if she might start crying again. "She was just... Jackson carried her back and she was covered in blood and she wasn't moving- I _saw_ her, oh god, I saw her..."

"Did you call the paramedics? Is she still breathing? Who did it?" In my shock, I can only think of one thing to do, and that's to ask questions. if I can figure out what's going on there, maybe I can help.

"I- I don't know," Jade replies. "The ambulance is taking her away now- there are all police- I can't get home."

"Why? Why not? What happened to Daniel?"

"Daniel's drunk." She spits the words out like they're venomous. "I don't even know how. And you know my parents are out of town for the weekend. I need- can you come pick me up?"

"Sure, yeah, of course," I reply quickly, already making my way out of the room. "We can be there in five minutes, where are you?"

"Outside the school," she says, sounding slightly breathless. "Becca, please hurry. Please. I'm- I'm scared, they don't know who it was, he might still be around..."

"Jade," I say, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible even though I feel like I could start to hyperventilate right now, "don't be afraid. there are police everywhere, and if this guy attacked Lydia then he probably was in a hurry to get out of there. I'll bet he's covered in blood, so if he stuck around then the police will find him. Okay?"

I only receive slightly frantic gasping in reply, but I take that as an affirmation. "I'll be there soon. Stay there," I say shortly before hanging up.

"Dad!" I call, pounding on my father's door with my fists. Dad is in the doorway in seconds, his hair mussed up and still in his pajamas, but looking as unnaturally alert as he always does when you wake him up. "Get dressed," I say shortly, and I know my face must be pale. "We've got to pick up Jade, something- something happened at the dance."

"Is everything okay?"

"No," I reply simply before hurrying off to my room and slamming the door shut behind me. I'm freaking out, and I know that I've got to get my emotions in check or else I won't be any use to Jade or anyone else.

I immediately head to my bathroom and examine myself in the mirror as I run cold water over my hands. My face isn't so much pale as it is ashen, and my eyes are wide even as I simply gaze back at myself. Overall, I look like I've just seen a ghost, and I know that's the exact opposite of what Jade needs- Jade needs to feel calm. Taking several deep breaths, I splash some water on my face and dry myself off with a towel. Looking back at my reflection, I think that while I don't look as if I've just gotten back from sitting on a tropical beach, it will do well enough.

Dad and I are in the car in less than five minutes, and we get to the high school just in time to see the ambulance driving away, presumably carrying the battered and bloodied body inside of it. There are a whole load of high schoolers just standing around, looking as if they've got no idea what to do- probably in shock. We find Jade exactly where she said that she would be, standing under a streetlight right in front of the school, clutching her purse tightly in her hands. When she spots our car she waves, as if we wouldn't be able to see her- which would be impossible. Her long pink gown seems to shimmer under the streetlights, flowing gracefully around her in a way that's so classically Jade that I'd know it even if I could only see her dress. She looks like a princess, honestly- even with her mascara running in long dark lines down her face, which I can clearly see as she runs up to our car, she looks beautiful.

"Hey," I say as she climbs into the backseat and immediately curls up in a ball, weeping into her purse. "Jade, it's alright. Everything's fine, you don't have to cry anymore."

Dad glances around the scene warily, his gaze landing on several police officers conversing with stony faces near a streetlight, and he undoes his seatbelt. "I'm going to go find out exactly what happened," he says in response to my questioning look. "Will you girls be alright alone for a minute?"

"Sure, dad," I reply, undoing my seatbelt as well. As soon as my dad shuts the door I clamber into the back of the car, settling next to Jade and allowing her to wrap her arms around me and sob into my pajama top. "Shh," I soothe, patting her back gently. She's wearing long, curly extensions in her normally short hair- I don't think I like them. Her hair has just become so essentially Jade-like to me that it's strange to see her in anything else. "Everything's going to be fine. Lydia is going to be fine. You're going to be fine. It's okay, it's fine." I don't tell her not to cry, because I know that she needs to. Instead I just whisper soothing, empty words and hug her shoulders to try and still some of her shaking. "Everything will be alright."

When my dad comes back to the car, his face is grim. "They aren't sure what happened," he says, his voice carefully level. "The boy who found her said that she was on the lacrosse field- that's where they're saying the attack happened. They have no idea who the culprit it." His voice lowers. "She lost a lot of blood."

Jade gasps again, burying her face into my shirt. "Oh god." She thinks that Lydia is going to die.

But I can see on my dad's face that that is not what the police officers said. If the officers thought that Lydia's wounds were fatal and they told him, it would show on Dad's face. The fact that he's so calm must mean that the police are as well- they haven't given up yet. More importantly, I know Lydia Martin- well, sort of. While I have a hard time imagining the queen bee of our school helplessly bleeding out on the lacrosse field at the feet of some lunatic, I have an even harder time imagining that Lydia Martin- _the_ Lydia Martin, the girl who celebrates her birthday every single year with some sort of mad celebration that I've never bothered to attend, the girl who has practically the entire school wrapped around her little perfectly manicured finger- could just allow herself to die in a hospital bed without even putting up a fight. Lydia will be okay. She has to be, because she's _our age_. She's only a teenager- and teenagers don't just _die _like that.

Dad observes me and Jade in the backseat, and his face softens. "Let's get you home," he says gently to Jade, shifting the car into gear.

The ride to Jade's house is a quiet one. Jade continues her sobbing for most of it, and I simply pat her back gently while studying my father. His eyes are trained on the road ahead, and he too looks shaken- he's probably nearly as upset as I am, and it shows in the tenseness of his grip on the steering wheel.

When we pull into Jade's driveway, I help her out of the car, and my best friend clings to me like I'm her only lifeline. As soon as she sees us, Jade's younger sister Julie sprints out of the house, her dark curls wild. This, combined with her loose t-shirt and sweatpants, gives off the impression that she has just gotten out of bed.

"What happened?" She exclaims as she assists me in half-dragging her dazed (but thankfully now silent) sister into the house. "I was asleep but then Jamie woke me up and told me that Jade wasn't home yet. I thought she went home with her boyfriend..."

"Jamie's up?" Jade murmurs, her eyes unfocused and puffy from crying. "Why? He should be in bed..."

"He wouldn't go to bed until you were home," Julie replies, gazing up at her sister worriedly.

"He should be in bed," says Jade softly, and I wonder if she even realizes that she's actually home. "It's late."

Julie glances from her sister to me and then back again, her brow furrowing. "What happened to her?"

"There was an incident," I reply. "At the dance. A girl got attacked, and they don't know who did it. Jade's traumatized now."

Julie stands up straighter, her eyes widening. She's clearly startled, but when she speaks she is as focused as she always is. "Will she be alright? Will the girl be alright?"

I nod, glancing at Jade again. She's staring at some undefined point on the floor, her eyes sort of glazed over, like she's seeing Lydia's body over and over again in her mind. "I'll just... take her upstairs," I say quietly, glancing up the staircase. As I do, I notice a tiny figure in blue pajamas standing at the top of the stairs. "Hey, Jam," I call, waving slightly to Jade's youngest brother. He nods at me in reply, his eyes focused on his older sister as he makes his way down the stairs.

"Becca? Julie? What's the matter with Jade?"

"Nothing," Julie replies with a quick shake of her head. "She's just tired is all. It's okay, Jamie." She glances at me, a kind of desperate look that practically screams "Help, what do I do?" I realize that Julie's torn between taking care of her baby brother or staying with her sister.

"Julie, can you take Jamie in to the kitchen for a little while? Maybe a glass of water could help him get to bed." I say this last part with a pointed glance at Jamie. "It's eleven o'clock. I'll take care of Jade, don't worry about anything."

Julie stares at me for a moment before nodding, cautiously, and taking her brother by the hand and guiding him in to the kitchen. I lead Jade up the stairs, and she follows me without a word.

It seems like the second we reach the doorway to her room, Jade snaps herself out of whatever trance she had been in and, with a strangled cry, flings herself onto her bed. Wrapping her arms around a pillow she lies there, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Unsure of what to do, I sort of just hover awkwardly in the doorway for a minute, pretending to be fascinated by the photos decorating the outside of Jade's door that I've seen hundreds of times before, before I turn back to her. "I'm gonna go now..."

"No!" Jade says suddenly, sitting bolt upright. "Please, Becca, don't. I can't- I can't be alone right now."

"You aren't alone, sweetie," I say gently, taking a few steps towards her. "You've got Julie."

"No," she says, seeming to be putting a massive effort into composing herself. "No, I don't want Julie. Please don't go, Becca. I need you here."

I sigh, nodding my head. "Alright. Sure, of course I'll stay. Let me just go tell me dad, okay? Be right back."

I run to go tell my dad that it's alright for him to leave without me, but I spot Julie at the foot of the stairs, staring out the glass door at my father's car. "Hey, Julie," I call from the top of the stairs, "could you go tell my Dad that I'm staying here tonight?"

She turns towards me, her brow creased. "How's Jade? Is she okay?"

The obvious concern she feels for her sister makes me smile a bit, in spite of the circumstances. Julie might be only thirteen, but she's far more mature than most adults I know. She's also inherited the Newmar habit of tirelessly looking after her family, and her worry for her sister is touching. "She'll be fine," I assure her, trying to sound confident in my words. "She's just-"

"In a mild state of shock," Julie finishes solemnly. "I know. I'll tell your dad."

By the time I get back to Jade's room she's sitting up in bed, the pillow still on her lap. She seems calm now, despite the lines of mascara trailing down her face, and her shaking has almost ceased as she glances up when I walk into the room. While I was gone, she removed her long hair extensions and discarded them on the floor; I feel nothing but relief. Jade has always kept her hair as short as her little brothers and taken no small amount of pride in it. Seeing her with hair as long as mine just doesn't feel like her.

"I'm staying tonight," I say, sitting next to her on the bed. Her face lights up, but it her smile doesn't hold it's usual brightness; she just looks sad.

"Can we have a sleepover? Set up our beds on the floor and everything?"

I can sense that she's very deliberately attempting to skirt the topic of the formal and I don't like it, but I'm so relieved that she isn't crying anymore that I simply nod. After all, if not thinking about it makes her feel better then that's perfectly fine.

We spend the next fifteen minutes decimating her bed, stripping it bare of all it's pillows, sheets, blankets and any other weird thing that Jade likes to keep in her bed while she sleeps, and laying it all out in a complicated array on the floor. Once we're finished we've managed to build sort of a nest- a mass of pillows, blankets and stuffed animals that we gratefully fall back in with twin sighs of relief.

"You should change, you know," I comment after a moment, nodding pointedly at her now crumpled pink gown. While I left the house in nothing but my pajamas and sneakers, Jade is still in her formal dress and is currently smushing it while rolling about in our nest. She glances down at herself somewhat guiltily before nodding.

"Right," she says, rising to her feet and grabbing a red t-shirt and pair of grey pajama pants from the back of a chair, where they had neatly been laid out for her. I busy myself with looking through a new National Geographic magazine I find on her desk while she changes, and I'm only distracted a few minutes later by her flopping down into the pillows and nearly crushing me.

"Watch it, maniac!" I exclaim, shoving her off of me as she giggles. It's good to hear her laughing, genuinely laughing; much better than when she was crying into my shirt. I feel a rush of relief, but that abruptly vanishes when it occurs to me what we have to talk about next.

"Okay," I say after a moment of silence. "Now- I know this is probably going to be difficult. But- if you can-"

"Can I tell you what happened?" Jade's voice is quiet and her expression uneasy but she nods all the same. "Of course I can, I'm not so traumatized that I blocked it out. Besides," she sighs, absently playing with her fingers, "it might be good for me to talk about it. Where should we start?"

"O-Okay," I say, a bit taken aback by her eagerness to speak of the events of tonight. "Sure. Let's start with... the beginning of the night. Just talk about it."

Jade nods slowly, leaning back against the pillows to stare up at her ceiling. "Okay- the beginning. Well, Daniel picked me up... from Averie's house, because she, Holly, Scarlett and I were all trying on our dresses and sort of screwing around- and we drove there. Once we got to the school we played the radio really loud and made out in the car for a little bit before we went inside... and we were all dancing for a really long time. Holly ditched Lee pretty early on and she was dancing with some lacrosse kid, and Averie was out with her boyfriend- they were doing some really crazy dance things. I was with Daniel for a long time, and then Averie, Holly and I were dancing together... oh, then Scott McCall got screamed at by Coach Finstock for dancing with Danny, which was absolutely bizarre- I always knew that guy was a bit weird anyway, with the way he and the Stilinski kid are joined at the hip-"

"Jade!" I interrupt, trying my best not to grin at her comment about McCall. "Where was Lydia Martin during this time? Do you remember?"

Jade's brow creases, and she bites down on her lip. "She was... umm, I think she was dancing... yeah, she was dancing with Stilinski, that's right! And they were dancing- he looked really happy... I remember now, Averie pointed it out to me." She nods slowly. "And then... Daniel and I were making out again, and I remember thinking that he was drunk. I don't know how he..." She shakes her head. "But I didn't care. I just... we were making out for a long time, and then I remember thinking that it was hot... so I went outside." Here, she stops.

"And?" I prompt gently.

"And?" She echoes, sounding distant. "And... and I saw her."

"Saw what, Jade? What did you see? Lydia?"

"Yeah... I saw Lydia... she was being carried... I remember Jackson Whittemore was carrying her, and he ran from the lacrosse field- she was in his arms, and he was covered in blood... and he was screaming." She shudders. "I... I didn't know what was going on at first, I just thought she had passed out, I thought it wasn't anything that bad- and then someone screamed, and then another person, and- oh god..."

"What is it, Jade?" I push her, and her entire body shudders violently. Her eyes are wide open but far away- she isn't even here. I wonder if she can still hear my voice. "What did you see?"

"I saw- I saw her. She was covered in blood, and her dress was torn, and..."

"And?"

"And they ran right past me," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "They ran right past me, and I- I don't know, I don't know-" She begins shaking violently, her head thrashing back and forth, and suddenly I'm afraid.

"Jade- Jade, it's okay, you can stop now. It's alright!"

"I don't know how to describe it!" She continues, as if she didn't even hear me. "It was like I- I don't know, I- I felt her! I just felt her!"

And suddenly, everything stops. With Jade's voice, the shaking ceases and she stills entirely, her eyes dropping shut. For one horrible moment, however irrationally, I think that she's dead. "Jade?" I grab her arm, shaking her gently, and she gasps, eyes snapping open.

"Holy crap, are you okay?" I ask as she pants, looking around the room as if she doesn't really know where she is.

"Yeah," Jade replies slowly, her dark eyes wide. "I- I just... sorry."

We sit there a moment, both not really sure how to react. I don't have any idea what I've just seen, but whatever it was, it scared me. It seemed almost like she was having a seizure or something, with all the shaking- but even worse, it seemed that as soon as she mentioned Lydia that she wasn't even there anymore. I think back to her final words: _"I felt her." _What had she meant by that?

Maybe I'm being cruel, but somehow I can't help but feel as if I've got to find out what Jade meant. "Jade," I say quietly as soon as her breathing seems to have returned to normal. She looks up at me from where she had been picking at the corner of one of her pillows, her eyes wide in her suddenly thin-seeming face. "Can you tell me what you meant by 'I felt her'?"

I half expect her not to have any idea what I'm talking about, to not remember ever saying it at all. However, Jade simply returns her attention to her pillow again in a manner that reminds me starkly of whenever I'm talking about something uncomfortable with Isaac. "I... don't really know," she replies quietly. "I just felt like... like when she walked by, I felt a connection with her. Like, I could feel how scared she was. I could feel her pain..." She trails off, biting the corner of her lip, and I realize that she sounds unsure of herself. It's so unlike the Jade I've always known to be unsure that it momentarily takes me aback. "I must sound crazy."

I shake my head. "No, of course not. It just..." I sigh, squeezing her hand. "I think you're just tired right now. We should go to bed. Tomorrow I'm sure we'll find out what happened. Everything will be okay."

She nods, curling up on her side to face me. I reach up and switch off the light on her bedside table, and we sit in silence, the only light that on the moon filtering in through the window.

"Hey, Becca?" She says quietly, just as I'm starting to drift off to sleep. I raise my head, startled, as in the dim light I can see her give me a tiny, close-lipped smile. Close-lipped and entirely unlike her regular bright, open one, but utterly real.

"Thank you," she whispers and I smile back, closing my eyes and allowing the darkness to consume me.


	7. Friends

My lips press to his again and he pulls me in closer, his hands on my waist as he kisses me more forcefully. I press myself to him and we move together as one, our bodies moving almost unconsciously to the music we really couldn't care less about. I wrap one arm around his neck and tangle my other in his dark hair. I smile into the kiss and he sighs, his body warm as he pulls me tighter against his chest.

I feel his hands slide up my shirt to grope at my chest, and I bite down at his lips. He lets out a soft groan, and I feel satisfied to have elicited such a reaction from his. His muscles are tense and wound under my touch- like a cat waiting to pounce.

We pull apart momentarily for air and his warm breath hits my face. I crinkle my nose as the sharp smell of alcohol registers in my mind- he's drunk. "How are you-" I begin to ask, but he cuts me off with another kiss, his hands slowly wandering down to my waist. I press him back against the wall, content in the knowledge that the sanctuary of the bleachers is concealing most of our antics, and he laughs softly against my mouth.

I'm not there anymore. I'm nowhere. Where am I?

No, I am somewhere. I'm outside. I can feel the cool February night air against my bare arms as I make my way across the lacrosse field, and I rub my hands over them. My arms are covered in goosebumps and I shiver again, although something in the back of my mind tells me that it isn't just from the cold. Where is he? I've got to find him- where did he go?

I call out his name again, and there isn't any reply. He's got to be out here- I saw him leave, I know he left. I've got to find him. Where _is_ he? "Jackson!"

Suddenly I'm blinded as one of the floodlights flickers on, bathing one section of the formerly dark field in bright light. It is quickly followed by a second, then a third, and a forth, and they continue to flicker on all around me until I'm surrounded by a ring of light. I spin around in confusion, squinting at the brightness. This couldn't be Jackson. Why would Jackson do this?

This is someone else, I realize, and a cold jolt of dread shoots through me.

I spin around, my breathing slightly ragged. I don't know why I feel so afraid, but all of a sudden I'd like nothing more than to take off and never come back to that field again. "Jackson?" I say again, my voice coming out much smaller than I would like it to. I know it isn't Jackson.

But it is someone; I can see a figure slowly emerging out of the darkness from between two of the lights, and I squint to make out the identity of the man. "Jackson, is that you?"

It isn't Jackson. The frame is too big and he's wearing a long coat. I don't know who it is, but he's coming towards me and I want to run but I feel frozen in place, my eyes locked on the ominous figure slowly approaching me. "Jackson," I say again, wanting so desperately for it to just be my boyfriend- _ex_-boyfriend- for this all to be just some sort of an elaborate prank. But I know that it isn't. "Is that you?"

I've got to run. I've got to get away. But I can't.

"Lydia!"

It's the sudden cry of my voice that breaks the spell, and I spin around to see Stiles sprinting full-force across the field towards me. "Run!" he shouts, his bid coming out as a strangled roar that's full of pure terror, and I spin around to find myself face to face with the figure that had been emerging from the darkness.

It isn't Jackson. It isn't even human.

The last thing I see before I'm hit with a blinding wave of pain and fall back into total darkness is a long, needle-sharp row of monstrous fangs in the mouth of my attacker as he opens his jaw wide in an animalistic roar. And then I know nothing more except pain and darkness.

But I wake up again. No- I was never asleep. It's hot. It's so hot, and I need to go outside. I push away from him, leaving him slouched behind the bleachers in a daze, and make my way outside.

I stand outside the school, amidst the array of glowing stars projected onto the building, and inhale a deep breath. The night is cool and I'm relieved; the gym was so warm that it feels good to be out, away from the mass of people. Maybe I'll just stay out here for the rest of the night- I can still hear the music and there's much more room to dance-

A scream. Someone is screaming.

It's Jackson Whittemore, I realize, sprinting towards the school with someone cradled in his arms as if he were holding a baby. I can't tell who it is, but I'm immediately concerned. Did someone pass out? Did someone fall? Jackson sounds like he's crying.

And then I spot the blood covering the girl's silvery dress, and someone else screams, a shrill sound that pierces the night air. I want to scream- maybe I am, I can't tell if I am or not. It's Lydia. It's Lydia Martin, and she's covered in blood.

She passes me and as she does it hits me, nearly knocking me down. She's hurt. She's hurt, and it hurts so badly, and she's scared, so scared-

_Help me. Help me, please_.

She's so _scared!_

_Help me._

She's _afraid!_

_Please!_

I know that I'm screaming, but I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know anything.

xXxXxXxXx

I'm jolted out of my sleep by screaming, and for a moment I'm sure that it's me- it has to be me, how could I not be screaming after a dream like that. But it isn't me- it's Jade.

"Jade, Jade, it's okay! I'm here, it's okay!" I'm comforting her before I really know where I am- before I actually know _who_ I am. As her screams die down and she sobs into my arms, it all slowly comes back to me again; I'm me, I'm Rebecca, and I'm staying over at Jade's house tonight. Lydia Martin was attacked tonight at the dance. Not me. Lydia Martin. I wasn't even at the dance tonight.

As Jade weeps, I cast a sideways glance at the clock on her bedside table- it reads a bit past three in the morning. "Shh... shh... Jade, Jadey, it's alright. It's okay, you're okay. Calm down," I soothe, patting her back gently. She hiccups and goes limp against my shoulder, one hand entangled in my blonde hair. I can feel her nails digging into my scalp, but I don't care. If I'm helping Jade, then that's all that matters.

"I know," I whisper, my voice soft and calming, "I know. I had a nightmare too."

Eventually, Jade glances up at me guiltily, swiping at her tear-streaked face with her sleeve a few times before sitting up, her back against the side of her bed. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I just... it felt so real. Like- like I was there with her. She was scared, Bec- she must have been so _scared_."

"I know," I say quietly, my mind wandering back to my own dream, and the fear I had felt as Lydia as I stood all alone on that lacrosse field. "I know."

Jade falls silent, and it seems to take her a moment before she's able to speak again. "Do you think they'll be able to find the guy that did it?"

I shrug, not meeting her eye. "I hope so."

She exhales heavily, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again. "I'm sorry for waking you. You can go back to sleep now, I'll be fine."

"What about you?"

"I... I'd really rather not go back to sleep right now, if that's alright," she says, opening a drawer in her bedside table and pulling out a hard-covered book that I can't see the title of. "I'll just read for a little while. I won't turn on the light. That okay?"

I shrug. "Your life. But how will you see?"

"I can see fine," she replies, her eyes still glistening with tears, but her face remains placid. "The moon's bright tonight."

"Alright, then," I sigh, turning over so that my back is to her. I can hear her soft but somewhat ragged breaths, and I can feel her breathing right next to me. Despite how worried I am about her, I'm reminded of what I felt yesterday night with Isaac; how I had listened to the combination of our breaths, how I had likened them to a song, how peaceful that moment had been- how happy I had felt.

Isaac fills my thoughts until I fall back asleep, and for the rest of that night I dream about him as well; dreams about the two of us in my bedroom, about what would have happened if one of us had just leaned in a little closer when I so wanted to in that short moment. I would have felt his lips on mine; I would have touched his hair; his hands would have been on my back. Not like the boy from my other dream; that was rough and passionate and not romantic in the slightest, there was no actual feeling behind it. If I had kissed Isaac, it would have been different. I dream about other things, too- like the light in his eyes when he laughs, or the nervous, flustered way he had invited me to the formal, or even vanilla ice cream cones while radio blares throughout the car. Those are the things I dream about, and I have good dreams that night.

xXxXxXxXx

My weekend is primarily spent trying, along with Julie, to ensure that Jade doesn't lapse into a complete nervous breakdown over the events of the formal. By Saturday morning she's still quite traumatized, and she stays that way for the rest of the day. Julie and I try our best to humor her, but eventually I'm just tired and only want to go home. By Sunday, however, she does seem far more recovered, and the relief in Julie's voice when she informs me of this over the phone Sunday morning is even greater than my own. When I speak to her later that night, Jade assures me briskly that she's fine, everything is fine, and resumes her gossiping about the latest breaking news in Beacon Hills, regarding the psycho lady who apparently set the Hale house on fire a bunch of years back, killing eight people- her moments of weakness the night before seemingly forgotten entirely.

However, I have another worry on my mind that weekend, besides Jade; Isaac. By Sunday night I've called him three times and texted him five- and still, he won't reply. I'm not sure if he's purposefully ignoring me or if he simply can't answer. As much as I want to give him the benefit of the doubt- his phone could be dead, he could have lost it- it is difficult when I remember the look he had on his face Friday afternoon when I rejected him.

Monday morning dawns as brightly as ever, but I'm barely able to pull myself out of bed.

I hate Mondays. Have I mentioned that I hate Mondays? Well, I really hate Mondays.

On the bus ride to school I even catch myself falling asleep a couple times, and the girl sitting next to me has to stick me with her pencil more than once to wake me up. This, combined with not having breakfast this morning, basically sets me up for a pretty poor day at school.

Before homeroom, Jade is by our lockers as usual, and as soon as I get there she begins chirping away about nothing in particular. Content as I often am to simply listen to her talk, I can't help but take in her appearance- her face is as bright as usual, but she's wearing more jewelry than she usually is. That's odd for her- usually Jade doesn't go overboard with jewelry. She's also wearing extremely bright clothing; a pretty silk top of pale mint green fabric that, while it looks absolutely gorgeous on her, can't help but give off the appearance- to me, at least- that she's trying too hard to pretend that everything is exactly as it should be. She's putting a great deal of effort into pretending that things at school are completely normal, so I choose to play along- for her sake.

However, things aren't completely normal, and after what Averie tells us a few minutes later we know that there isn't any use pretending that they are.

It's Kayla Denham who gets our attention first as she runs up to us, with Averie trailing close behind her- her bright red hair would be awfully hard to miss. "You guys," she gasps, clutching her chest. She looks as if she's just run a very long distance- and no wonder, her locker is halfway across the school. "You've heard, right? About Lydia?"

My heart sinks to my stomach. My first thought is that Lydia is dead. That would be the only way to explain the crazed and somewhat bloodthirsty glint in Averie's eye- or am I just imagining that?

Jade's face goes an ashy grey color. She looks sick, no doubt thinking along the exact same lines as I am. "What about Lydia?"

"She went missing from the hospital last night." Averie says it so quickly, like it's something wonderful that's happened. I'm in shock. Lydia Martin is missing. How could she be _missing_? How can someone go missing from a _hospital_? Averie continues: "She was in the shower last night, and all of a sudden they heard a scream- and she was gone. She just vanished."

"_Completely_ naked," Kayla adds, her green eyes wide. "She didn't grab a towel, even! They don't know where she is!"

"Oh my god..." Jade murmurs, and she leans against me a bit for support. The two girls begin chittering excitedly to each other before they spot someone behind us and dart off to tell them the news as well. I grit my teeth in disgust, my disdainful gaze following them as they pass me.

"Gossipy hens," I mutter, narrowing my eyes at them. "If a girl's missing, that isn't something you find delight in."

"How... how can Lydia be missing? Just gone like that? How- how does that even- how does that happen?"

I glance over at Jade, and I can see that her hands are shaking slightly. "Hey," I say softly, grabbing her hands again and steadying them in my own. "Don't do that. Not now, okay? Not here. It's going to be okay. The police are going to find Lydia- don't cry, Jade, look at me."

Jade does look at me- reluctantly, furiously blinking back tears from her eyes. "I'm fine," she whispers firmly, more for her own benefit than mine. "Totally fine. I'm okay."

Just then the bell rings, and I give her hands one final squeeze. "You sure?"

She nods weakly. "Yeah. Of course I am. Go on, Becca, get to class. You don't want to be late."

As I scurry off to homeroom, I try to glance back at my best friend again, but she's already rushed off to her own homeroom, and is nowhere in sight.

xXxXxXxXx

As I walk into history class, I'm torn between feeling apprehensive and excited. The thought of speaking to Isaac once again makes my stomach twist into knots; but it also fills me with an odd sort of electric surge that's not entirely foreign to me. It's the same feeling I get during a swim meet, right before I'm about to dive into the water. I'm not a complete idiot- I can sort of figure out why. A boy likes me. A boy _actually_ likes me... and I turned him down. Will that make things awkward between Isaac and I? Logic tells me yes, but I really hope that it won't prove to be so.

I choose to approach him just as normally as I would on any other day. "Hey, Isaac," I greet, sliding casually into what has become my usual seat beside him.

I seem to have jolted him out of some sort of reverie, because he jumps a bit when I speak and blinks hazily at me for a moment before responding with a rather listless "Hi." When he replies, however, he makes the mistake of turning his face fully towards me, and my frown slides off my face as my eyes widen in shock.

"Holy- is that a _black eye_?"

"Oh." Isaac's hand immediately darts up to his left eye, almost as if he's trying to conceal it from my view, but it's too late- I've already spotted it. Just as the bruise on his face was finally beginning to fade to a sickly looking yellow that nevertheless was still far less garish against Isaac's pale skin than the odd violet color it had been on Friday, Isaac now sports a new bruise on the opposite side of his face- a sore looking, light purple ring around his left eye. "Yeah," he says, his voice quiet but his expression mild. "Lacrosse."

I raise my eyebrows, his explanation not sitting well with me in the slightest. "Lacrosse. Over the weekend. The sport where you wear extremely heavy protective gear, notably including face masks? I mean, we are thinking of the same lacrosse here, right?"

Isaac hunches over his desk, frowning deeply. "It was an accident, okay?" He says, his voice hard and altogether un-Isaaclike. "That's all."

I draw back, stunned at eliciting such a defensive reaction from him. Isaac didn't get like that when I interrogated him about the bruise on his cheek. What's making him so closed off now? "Okay," I retort, my brow furrowing. "I'm not going to push you if you don't want to talk about it." I study his reaction carefully- the way he scowls down at his clasped hands, the minute way his eyes flicker to me quickly before looking away, as if checking to see if I'm still staring at him, and I'm once again struck by the thought that something isn't right. "Isaac..." I venture tentatively. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Even though I bite down hard on the corner of my lip, I can't ignore the slight pang of hurt I feel at the careless tone in his words. This is about the formal. This has got to be about the formal, because I don't know what else it could be about. Why else would Isaac be acting like this?

"Okay, look, if you're acting weird because you're upset about the formal thing-" I'm all set to go off on a tangent, but cut myself off when Isaac's head whips towards me, his crystal blue eyes wide.

"What? No! No, I'm not upset about the formal."

My frown deepens. "Then what? What's wrong? You're acting as if I'm not even here- or..." I trail off, pursing my lips as I glare down at my blank notebook page.

After a long moment I almost think that I can feel a hand hovering slightly over mine before abruptly vanishing, but I don't look up until I hear Isaac's voice, quiet and apologetic.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I've just..." He frowns deeply. "I've got a lot on my mind."

"Oh," I say quietly. "Is... everything alright?"

He nods slowly, rubbing a hand against his temple, and suddenly it occurs to me exactly what it is that's been bothering me about him all class; somehow Isaac, without changing his appearance in the slightest, seems to me as if he's aged several years completely overnight. The reasons for such a solemn, pensive look to be occupying any sixteen year old boy's face seriously has me concerned about whatever thought might be running through his mind.

However, he simply nods again, more firmly this time. "Sure, yeah- everything is fine." And so I, recalling his response to being pressed earlier, simply shrug and reluctantly leave it at that.

xXxXxXx

It's almost unnerving how Averie's gaze fixes solely on me as soon as I sit down at our lunch table. No- it _is_ unnerving, to an absurd degree. It feels like I'm a tiny field mouse who's somehow had the misfortune of attraction the attention of a hawk. A _hungry_ hawk.

"So, Becca," she chirps as soon as I take my seat at the table next to Jade, not even bothering to wait for the rest of our table's usual occupants to join us before directly plunging into what I don't doubt has been on her mind ever since she saw me separate from Jade and head outside Friday afternoon. "We missed you Friday. Where did you go?"

I chew at my lower lip instead of my food, shrugging nonchalantly as I pretend to critically examine the bread of my sandwich. "I ate lunch with someone else."

"With Isaac Lahey?" Next to Averie, Holly offers me a tiny smile. "I saw you eating with him."

"Umm... yeah. I ate with Isaac."

Averie's grin is teasing. "So what, are you two, like, dating now or something?" My eyebrows shoot up so high that I imagine they must be nearly about to leap clean off my forehead, but I'm not given the chance to reply before little Kayla speaks up from the end of the table.

"Eww. I heard he's, like, anti-social or something."

"I know," Lee adds, a smirk on his face as he runs his hand through his thick brown hair. "He's in my Algebra class. He hardly ever speaks."

"He sure was saying a lot to Becca last week," Jade adds with a giggle, and that's when it hits me that I'm truly on my own in this. Somehow, Isaac has become the main topic of gossip for the moment, and Jade is too focused on trying to act like her "normal" self to do anything to intervene. And that's bad, because I _need _someone to intervene. I don't want to talk about Isaac with these, people, I really don't, because I can see that any words they say about him won't be good ones. I've have a terrible feeling that I've just set off something horrible.

"I think he's pretty," Kayla adds, chewing on a lock of her red hair, and my gaze flicks to my tightly clasped hands and stays there.

"The dude's practically scared of his own shadow," I hear Kyle add. "He doesn't have any friends."

"Did you know that his dad used to teach here?" pipes up Scarlett. Of course Scarlett would know that. it sometimes seems like Scarlett, the daughter of an Biology professor, knows everything. But why is everyone taking such an interest in Isaac? Every word makes me feel sick to my stomach.

"No way." It's Averie's voice, and I feel a pang of resentment. _She _started this. It was her.

"No, it's true. My dad used to talk to him in the teacher's lounge sometimes. He said he was affable enough, but he always gave me the creeps whenever I saw him."

"You know," Daniel comments, and without even looking up I can see the gleeful glint in his eye, mirrored in nearly everyone else's at the table. Isaac is fresh meat for the gossip-mongers- because of _me_- and there's nothing they love more. "I heard he tried to drown a kid once at his house."

"Get out! Isaac or his dad?" Averie's voice is incredulous, and I can tell she's grinning.

"His dad, I think. Who knows? Maybe it was both of them."

My head pounds. I can't listen to this any longer. I've got to get out- now.

"He had an older brother, I think," I hear Lee comment, but I'm not listening anymore. Without saying a word, I rise from my seat, dump my untouched lunch in the garbage, and without even a glance back at them I stride out of the cafeteria with my head held high and my gaze fixed straight ahead. I can feel their eyes following me as I walk away.

Halfway down the hallway, I hear the click-clack of Jade's platforms behind me, but I don't turn around. "Becca- hey!" she calls after me, and as I quicken my pace she does the same.

"Bec- hey, Rebecca!" She exclaims again, managing to catch up to me and seize my shoulder. I pull away roughly.

"Leave me alone, Jade," I say, my voice hard.

"Hey!" She intercepts me again, jumping in front of me and preventing me from taking another step. "I'm sorry, okay?" Jade's eyes are wide, and her face is a picture of earnestness. "Just come back, and-"

"No!" I exclaim, feeling a burst of hot anger surge through me. "I'm not going back! I won't go back to that table ever again!" Jade's mouth drops open slightly and she takes a few steps back, her hurt written on her face. She looks as if I've just physically struck her- and I know that to her it probably feels as if I did. But I'm not finished. "Gossips, the whole lot of you," I spit, "chirping away at some poor boy when he isn't even around to defend himself!"

"Rebecca, I'm sorry..." Jade says softly, her voice quavering slightly as I step around her and begin to walk away from her. I freeze up at the sound of her voice, suddenly unable to force myself to take another step.

I exhale heavily, not turning to look back at her, but not walking away either. "If that's the type of people you choose to be friends with then that's your choice, but I don't want any part of it."

And then, without glancing back at her once, I walk off down the hallway- and this time, Jade is the one left staring after me.

The remainder of my lunch period is spent sitting in the library at the table nearest to the window, where the sun always seems to shine down just right. I may not feel as at home amidst the towering shelves or literature as some, but the library is quiet, peaceful, and most importantly _isolated_; I'm able to get most of my Algebra homework done without anyone interrupting me, and I'm almost certain that if anyone tries to come looking for me then they won't find me here.

After my argument with Jade, I don't say another word for the rest of the day. Even when I notice Kayla staring at me oddly in Economics, I simply turn my back to her without saying a word. Jade tries to speak to me again after the final bell, but I simply pretend as if I can't hear her. I might feel bad for being so harsh, but all I can feel in response to her words is anger. She keeps trying to insist that it was all just a joke, that nothing they were saying was really that bad, telling me to just come back. I don't understand why she can't comprehend that I do not want to be around people who tear others apart for their own personal pleasure. Especially when it's one of my friends that they're talking about- when they gossip about others it's easy to block them out, but not when it's Isaac. Isaac isn't for them to have, he's- he's sacred, I guess, I don't know. But the idea of them getting their gossipy little claws all over him makes me feel sick.

The next day seems all set up to play out exactly like the first. Jade keeps trying to talk to me; I'm very staunchly ignoring her. By fourth period Algebra, she seems to have mostly stopped trying, but instead of feeling satisfied I just feel hollow.

Even Isaac, who has recently been serving as a bright light in the middle of my really bad days, isn't any help today. If anything, he's even worse than he was yesterday; half of the time it seems like I'm not even there, and I hardly talk to him at all in History.

However, at the end of class, just before the bell rings, he does ask me something that sticks in my mind for the rest of the day. Just as I'm placing my notebook in my bag in preparation for going to me next class, he leans over towards me, his face solemn.

"Rebecca," he begins, sounding both pensive and slightly nervous at the same time. "Who would you- what would you do if I were different?"

My eyebrows slowly raise. "Different how?"

"Different as in- different. More confident, I guess, more smart, more... better. What would you do?"

I shrug, completely bewildered. What sort of question is this? "I guess..." I reply slowly, frowning. "I guess I would just have to wonder what changed."

He looks as if he wants to carry this on more- maybe ask me whether I mean that in a good way or a bad way, or something like that- but just then the bell rings, and I'm more than a little relieved. Honestly, I have no idea exactly what I meant by my reply. But his question bothers me all day; why would Isaac be thinking of changing himself? What would be the need to? And... the question still remains, what would _I _think?

Honestly, I think that I'm fine with Isaac the way he is. One over-confident friend who always seems to be convinced that she's right is more than enough.

When the lunch period begins, I spot Jade waiting at the cafeteria doors. Even through my anger I still feel a pang of sympathy for her; she just looks so miserable, standing there scanning the hallway for any trace of her best friend who she knows will more than likely not show up. I'm almost tempted to go and grab her right then- to drag her to a secluded table outside where we can just chat, just the two of us, like we used to before she had to go start sitting with Kyle and Averie and the rest of them.

But instead, I turn my back on her and head off to the library again. I don't care, I tell myself the entire walk down there, and I almost manage to convince myself of it. _I don't care._

xXxXxXx

"Is this seat taken?"

The soft voice completely shatters the illusion of peace that I had surrounded myself with, sitting at my little table in the library and bent over a book. It's one that I vaguely recognize, but I still don't want to look up to identify it's owner- I really don't want to see anyone right now. Still, my eyes are drawn upwards, and I find myself staring it to the thin, solemn-eyed face of Erica Reyes, a girl from my history class.

As I stare at her she glances down at the seat again, as if reminding me of her question. I'm just glad that it isn't one of _them_- then again, I knew that none of Averie's crew would ever look to find me in the library. Wordlessly, I shake my head and am rewarded with a tentative smile of thanks as Erica sits down and pulls out a notebook.

I don't mean to snoop, but just by looking at her I can see that the page she opens to contains several short passages of what looks like written poetry. When Erica realizes that I'm looking she hastily flips a few pages to what looks like notes from class.

"Chem quiz next period," she murmurs with a small shake of her head, as if trying to pretend that the page of peotry never even existed. "Harris is a killer. But I want the grade, so I've got to study."

"I took it today," I offer, still watching her eyen as she begins flipping more pages in her notebook, obviously looking for the right section of notes. "It's not that hard." Or, at least it probably won't be for her- I couldn't understand a third of what was on the page, so I don't really hold out high hopes for my grade.

She smiles again, glancing up at me with her wide brown eyes. "Great," she says. "Hopefully I might actually get an 'A' then."

I don't reply, instead electing to turn my attention back towards my book. She does so as well, and the next few minutes are quiet, if rather tense. I don't really know Erica, but I like her well enough- we've been in the same grade ever since her family first moved to town in seventh grade. She's always been kind of quiet, and from what I understand she- like me- doesn't really have that many friends. Erica's like me in another way too- she has a disability. Erica has epilepsy, which is a nervous system disorder that can cause seizures. I've never seen anyone have a seizure before, but from what I understand Erica once had one right in the middle of class- some sick kid filmed her, too. Erica, from what I've noticed here and there, is still kind of picked on; luckily for me, most of the bullying about my dyslexia stopped when I got into high school and started falling behind a lot less. I've always felt sort of an unconscious bond with Erica that way, that we both know what it's like to get picked on for something awful that we can't control. I'd like to say something to Erica. But there's no way I'm going to be the first one to say something, so I simply sit and pretend to read, my eyes running sightlessly over the words as I wait for her to speak- if she decides to, which I know she probably won't.

She does. "So," she says after a moment, her voice lacking some of that timidity that was present when she first spoke. "How come you're here?"

"Huh?"

"Well, you've got to be here for some reason," she replies, still staring down at her notebook. "This is the quietest place in school. Usually I come here at lunch- or whenever I just want to be alone. I come here a lot."

"Oh," I mutter. "Sorry to take your space."

"It's fine," she replies, shrugging. "It's not like I own it or anything."

I debate for a moment telling Erica exactly why it is that I'm sitting here. There's really no reason to, I know- but I feel like I want to talk to someone, and Erica actually seems willing to listen. And besides- I figure that if anyone can understand idiots, it would be Erica.

"I'm here because my friend's friends are jerks, and she's apparently decided to go right along with them," I say after a moment, and this time Erica really does look up- and her gaze is understanding, and utterly unsurprised. "They think they can just talk, talk, talk, as if their words don't get around, as if their words won't hurt anyone." I clench my fists bitterly, trying to quell the acrid burst of anger that rises up inside of me whenever I recall the group's words about Isaac.

"Of course," Erica replies, her tone dry. "That's what they do, isn't it? It's what they do best. Teenagers- people- love to talk." She smirks. "After all, they're just words, right? They can't hurt anyone. No one will ever know."

Her statement causes me to frown. It's clear, I realize, the Erica's had a lot of experience with people like Averie. I'm suddenly very glad I decided to share with her. "They make me sick," I mutter quietly. "I can't stand to hear them."

Erica nods, frowning. "They just don't understand... how words can hurt sometimes. They're sort of like kids that way- they don't understand how easy it is for words and actions to scar, even if they don't physically touch you, but they have a full comprehension of how simple it is to hurt their own delicate egos. They just don't know how easy it is... but then again, I guess you can't, until you've been there, right?" She raises an eyebrow at me, and slowly I nod. "So," she asks, absently doodling in her notebook. "Have you got a story?"

"Dyslexia," I reply. "From kindergarten to eight grade, I was the idiot who couldn't read. Kids used to call me stupid, they used to leave all these little notes on my desk with really small writing, because they knew there was no way I could read them. And they called me names... even some of the teachers."

She nods, her lips pressed into a thin line, and I realize that no matter how awful my early school experience was for me, hers must have been- and still continues to be- much worse. Suddenly, my complaints feel petty in comparison; but Erica doesn't look annoyed or mocking. She looks like she understands.

"Are you going to go back?" she asks simply, and her question gives me pause. I hadn't intended to ever go back to that table, but now that I stop and think about it- should I?

"Do you think I should?" I ask, and she shrugs.

"It depends, I guess, on how much that friendship really means to you in the first place." She looks at me, and her tone is completely serious. "If I were you, I wouldn't throw away a friendship that's lasted for a long time- but I wouldn't force myself to be around those types of people." The bell suddenly rings, startling both me and Erica, and we both hastily begins to gather up our things. Erica finishes first.

Before she leaves, however, she stops, and imparts with me one last comment. "I guess the only one who can make that choice," she says simply, "is you."

xXxXxXx

The thing about Jade is, once she's given up, she's given up. At lockers after school she doesn't meet my eye, not even when I shut my locker and lean against it, watching her as she neatly places her school books in her bag. She doesn't demonstrate it often, but Jade's got the capacity to be as stubborn as a mule when she wants to be.

It takes me finally losing my patience and slamming her locker door shut for her to finally acknowledge me, glancing up at me with wide eyes. "I don't want to fight now, Becca," she says quietly. "I really don't."

"I'm not trying to fight with you," I retort, but my words must come out too harshly because she takes a step back, looking hurt. My tone softens. "I don't want to fight either."

Jade's eyes narrow quizzically, as if she can't really process what she's hearing. "I'm not apologizing for what I said," I add hastily, "because I don't feel I need to. But I don't want to fight over something so... stupid."

Jade sucks her cheeks, her brow furrowing. "Neither do I, of course I don't. But... we didn't say anything bad, Becca. I'm sorry if you felt that way- but we didn't think it was bad. I'm sorry. Averie's sorry. We were... just having fun."

"That wasn't fun," I reply with a shake of my head. "But it shouldn't be something we fight over."

"Will you still eat lunch with us? I promise no one will talk about Isaac anymore."

I bite my lip, pondering the question for a moment. But one look at my best friend's wide-eyed, hopeful face, and I find it hard to say no. "I actually don't have any other significant lunch plans tomorrow, so... sure. Of course I will."

Jade's face breaks into a tentative smile. "So," she says, "friends then?"

"Friends," I nod, only for my word to end in a broken gasp as Jade lunges at me and wraps her arms around my shoulders, surely seeming as if she wants to crush me to death.

"Thank god," she murmurs. "I've missed you so much, and I wanted to talk to you all last night but I couldn't, and it was just so _frustrating_. You know, Averie was really upset after you left- she was texting me all last night to ask if I'd heard from you. And then last night I had another nightmare, would you believe it? I don't know what's wrong with me lately- I swear, it's the Lydia thing." The mention of Lydia finally makes her stop talking, and the bright expression on her face shifts into a frown. "Actually, I had an idea about that."

I raise my eyebrows, crossing my arms across my chest. "An idea? About Lydia?"

"Yeah... I just thought that maybe... well, today I heard Kyle talking about there being a bunch of volunteers going to search for Lydia tonight. I thought that it might be nice, and I kind of wanted to maybe do it." She glances up at me hopefully. "I mean, if you'd be able to. Do you think you could go with me?"

I frown. Walking around the woods at night looking for a missing naked girl certainly sounds more interesting than the way I pass most of my evenings, but I'm not really sure how good of an idea it is. Still, Jade just looks so hopeful, and I figure that this would probably be the best way to mend and residual tension between us. So, I shrug and force myself to look positive. "Sure," I say brightly. "Why not?"

Jade's face breaks into a grin. "Oh my god, great. I thought I was going to have to go alone, and I would be so freaked out walking around the woods alone at night..." She picks up her bag from the ground and the two of us begin to walk towards the exit of the school.

"We'll be with a search group," I point out. "We won't be completely alone."

"I know that," she replies, "but..."

Jade keeps talking, but I don't hear the rest of what she says. As we walk out of the school I suddenly notice Isaac standing by the doorway, his hands in his jacket pockets. He seems to be studying the ground, but looks up as we pass him. I wave to him, sending him a tiny smile, and he waves back wordlessly. The look in his eyes is the same as it's been ever since yesterday morning, and it still haunts me; whatever it is that's on his mind, it must be something terrible. If only he would just _tell_ me what it is that's bothering him, and maybe I could help him... but I won't press. I wouldn't like him pressing me, and I know that he's a private person as a rule. If he wants to tell me, he will.

As I get on my bus, he's still standing there, and he still seems to be watching me. Even as the bus begins to drive away his eyes follow me; just as they did one week ago today when he walked me out to my bus. I stare out the window at him, and neither of us moves; we just stare at each other, our eyes locked, until the bus rounds the corner and I'm no longer able to see him.

Whatever it is that's bothering him, I do hope that he tells me soon, or at least gets whatever it is resolved. Somehow, the Isaac that walked me out of school a week ago seems different from the Isaac that I saw standing in the exact same spot today. I don't know what could have happened to cause someone to change so distinctly in such a short period of time, but it troubles me, and I think about him all the way home.

xXxXxXx

"It's freezing out," I hiss, pulling my black coat tighter around my shoulders. Even the coat isn't doing me much good- my teeth are chattering so much that I'm afraid they'll break. Even though I dressed for the occasion, I wasn't anticipating exactly how cold the woods of Beacon Hills would be tonight. This only makes me even more worried for poor Lydia- what shape will she be in running around completely naked in these conditions? Even though I'm wearing a sweatshirt and a coat, I'm still freezing. "How are you not cold?" I ask, nudging Jade with my shoulder. She's dressed neatly and elegantly, as usual, but with her red vest serving as her only protection from the elements, her outfit doesn't exactly scream 'below forty degrees'.

Jade shrugs absently, her eyes fixed on Deputy Graeme as she steps away from the deputy she'd been talking to for the last few minutes and finally turns her attention to us, the volunteer searchers. For the past ten minutes Jade and I have been sort of just milling about, waiting to be told what to do. I'm relieved to see that we weren't one of the only ones to volunteer; actually, the turnout seems pretty impressive. If I had to estimate I would say that over a hundred people are here to help search for Lydia, us included. That's a really good thing- I mean, the more people out looking for her then the most likely it is that she'll be found, right?

"Alright, everybody, listen up!" Almost all eyes turn to Deputy Graeme as she begins to speak. "First of all, I'd like to thank you for all coming out here tonight. Beacon Hills is a small town, and if one of our children is missing then it impacts us all."

Jade grabs my hand and squeezes it, and I squeeze back. "Now," the Deputy continues, "it's thirty-four degrees out here tonight, and there's a young girl wandering around alone somewhere out in these woods. She's likely to be frightened and disoriented, and probably even a little sick. You are all going to be divided into four groups. Each group will be led by a police officer. Whatever you do, whatever you see, do not separate from these groups. We already have one missing person out there- we don't need to be looking for another." Deputy Graeme holds up a clipboard. "I'm going to read out to you a list of names, and these names will be your group. When you hear your name, you walk over to your assigned officer, and he'll lead you from here. First group, go with Officer Morgan- Arbor, Cathleen; Astley, Greg..." As the deputy begins to read off a list of names, Jade and I exchange glances. We had just assumed that we would be searching together; I don't like the idea of going off into these woods without her, and I can see by the look on her face that she feels the same way.

"Crosser, Rebecca!" I'm startled when Deputy Graeme reads out my name. Jade frowns and I squeeze her hand one last time before going over to join the small circle of people forming around a young, dark haired man in a police uniform.

It doesn't take too long to get to the 'N's. I hold my breath as "Narwin, Sherrie," is called over to our group, and my eyes find Jade for a moment. Her eyes are wide; she looks terrified. I'm frightened too- I don't want to go into the woods alone, and I certainly don't want her to be alone when she has to go in either.

I breathe an audible sigh of relief when Graeme reads out the next name, "Newmar, Jade," and Jade trots over to me with a bright smile on her face.

"I made the cut," she murmurs, relief clear on her face, and I smirk at her.

"What? Don't tell me you were scared?"

"I wasn't, but you sure could have fooled me. Your face was as white as a sheet."

"Yeah, that's because it's, like, twenty below out here." I shiver, zipping my red sweatshirt up to my chin. "You _still _aren't cold?" Jade simply grins.

However, once Officer Morgan begins leading us into the woods, we- along with the rest of the group- fall completely silent. The woods of Beacon Hills are eerie at night; eerier than I ever imagined. In the daytime they've always seemed to me, if not friendly, at least _normal_- now they feel like something out of a horror film. Shadows seem to press in on us, and the only light besides our flashlights is the moon above us.

Eventually Morgan instructs us to wander a bit away to begin our search, and soon the forest is filled with calls of "Lydia!", making the entire setting seem much less intimidating somehow. No one seems eager to go far, but everyone seems to be covering at least some ground. Jade and I are actually one of the few to dare to go more than twenty feet away from the rest of the group; Jade seems wary and, frankly, I am too, but we both know that a bunch of people all clustered in one place is going to do nothing for the missing girl.

After fifteen minutes of calling Lydia's name and receiving no answer in reply aside from the now increasingly far-off calls from the other searchers, Jade seems dejected.

"Well, you didn't expect we'd just come out here and find her, did you?" I demand, shining my light critically into a hole in a tree. Jade huffs beside me.

"Of course not. I just didn't think that it would be this... unproductive. I had hoped we'd at least find something; some tracks or some hair, something to lead us to her."

"Missing girls don't just leave a trail of breadcrumbs," I reply, straightening up and frowning at the ground. "If only there were some way we could just-" Suddenly I stop, every muscle in my body freezing.

"Becca?" Jade asks, and her quizzical frown only deepens when I hastily shush her.

"Quiet," I whisper, pressing a finger to my lips. "Do you hear anything?"

"I thought you just told me to be quiet."

"Jade!" I exclaim, swiping at her with my flashlight. "Seriously. _Do you hear anything_?"

Jade crinkles her nose, her eyes darting around the dark woods. "No, nothing. Why?"

"Exactly. I don't hear anything. I don't hear _our group _anymore."

"Ohh... crap."

"Yeah."

Jade shines her flashlight around wildly, as if searching for any trace of the rest of our party in the darkness. "Well, what are we going to do? We've got to get back!"

"Which way did we come?"

Jade turns to me, shrugging helplessly. "I don't know!" She exclaims, her voice coming out a few octaves higher than normal.

"You're the one with the sense of direction here, not me!"

"Well, I have no idea! Maybe- I mean-" She hesitates, staring off to our left. "I think we came east."

I frown, shaking my head. "No, no, I think we were south. Definitely north. We were heading south."

"No, we were heading west. We came east."

"North," I correct, "we came north."

Jade bites her lip, and I can see that she really has no idea where we came from. "Fine," she concedes at last. "We came north. Let's head back that way."

We walk for a long time in the darkness, neither of us venturing to say a word. After a while my old flashlight, which I had dug out from he back of my dad's supply closet, is beginning to flicker. We're both shivering now, although I'm pretty sure that Jade is more frightened than cold, and we still haven't seen or heard anything of our search party.

"You... know something?" I say after about ten minutes of complete silence. "I think we _may _have actually come east."

Jade sighs through her teeth, holding her head in her hands. "I don't believe this," she mutters, and her voice shakes slightly. "_How_ could we-"

"Hey," I say suddenly, going still. "Shut up a sec."

"Excuse me?"

"Quiet!" I hiss, my eyes darting rapidly around the woods. "I think I just heard something."

Jade suddenly seems to grow animated once more, her eyes widening. "Heard something? Like what? Like, a search party something? What are you hearing?"

"No," I shoot back, waving a hand to silence her. "Not a person. It sounds more like... a wolf." I turn to her, my brow furrowed. "Can't you hear it?" Jade shakes her head, glancing around the forest nervously, and I frown.

It's almost hard for me to hear as well, but the noise is clear; the howling of a wolf, filling the night from somewhere not far from us. I can't tell exactly where it's coming from, but I can tell one thing; it's close. I've always had a bit better hearing than normal, but as the noise slowly begins to grow louder, I see Jade's expression shift from eagerness to alarm and terror, I can tell that she's heard it too.

"That... that's a wolf. I hear a wolf!" Jade vocalizes exactly what I was afraid to, and she automatically drifts closer to me, her eyes wide. "How can that be? Are there even wolves in California?"

"There are animals," I murmur, remembering the woman who was found torn in half by an animal just last year, at the beginning of sophomore year.

"We- we have to get out of here," Jade says, her voice soft, but I grab her arm as she begins to walk backwards.

"Are you kidding? We don't know where it is!"

"I don't care where it is, I _want _to get out of here!"

"Jade, if you go out there you might run right into it, and it could very well just tear you to-" A sudden crackle of leaves, very near us, stops my words in my throat. "Pieces..." I finish weakly, and Jade and I exchange horrified glances. The howls have stopped now... almost as if the wolf has spotted something.

And, based on the way the leaves seem to crackle in the darkness around us, the noise circling us as we spin around, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of the creature stalking us, we're the ones who've caught the wolf's eye.

In a flash I've snatched a heavy stick off the ground, dropping my own flashlight in the trust that Jade has hers, and brandish my newly acquired weapon in front of me. "What the hell will you do with that?" Jade hisses, her voice small, and I shrug.

"It's what Belle did," I reply breathlessly. "In _Beauty and the Beast_," I add in response to Jade's quizzical look. "She fought the wolves off with a stick."

Jade lets out a breathy laugh, her voice still not rising over a whisper. "I can't believe this. We're about to die, and you're talking about Disney films."

"Are we really-" I stop as I hear a low growl from somewhere directly to our left of us, and spin around to face the direction from which the sound came from. Jade lets out a soft whimper, and glancing down at my own hands I can see that they're shaking, but I stand my ground. Jade's terrified, and I can't let this wolf- or _whatever_ it is- hurt her. Not as long as I'm able to protect her.

Jade clutches at my shoulder, her fingers digging through my three layers of clothing and pressing hard into my skin, and I take a deep breath in anticipation. Any second, some beast is going to come lunging out at us from the shadows, and it's going to be up to me to protect her. Any breath I take might be my last. The only thing I can think of is how on the first morning on tenth grade, when Dad told me about the girl's body after he read about it in the paper, I had shuddered and though about what a horrible death that must have been. Now, that girl was going to be me.

Any second now... one... two... three...

Someone steps out of the shadows and Jade lets out a shrill scream, burying her face into my shoulder. But my eyes are wide, and my stick nearly slips out of my hand in shock. Because I'm not facing down a wolf, not at all- instead I'm staring at a _man_.

The man is tall, with a stern face, solemn eyes and light stubble on his cheeks. He regards us coldly, and I almost involuntarily shrink back. Something about this man say "business," and I'm almost immediately intimidated.

"What are you girls doing out here?" He asks, and his voice isn't angry- instead it's calm, almost quiet, and I'm even more taken aback.

"We- we were-" I splutter, and I realize that I must look like a total fool. Taking a deep breath, I collect myself before saying again, "We were part of the search party. For Lydia Martin? I- I think we lost our group."

The man regards us sternly for a moment, taking in the shaking Jade on my shoulder, the rather half-hearted way I'm now brandishing the stick out in front of me, and the no doubt terrified-out-of-our-minds expressions were both wearing, and his face seems to soften slightly.

"You've wandered pretty far from your group," he informs us, nodding his head towards our right. "Just head straight forward that way. It should take you about three minutes to get back to a main road. I'm sure you'll be able to make it back from there."

I nod weakly, trying to smile at him but failing miserably. "Yes sir," I mutter, taking Jade by the arm but not looking away from him. "Thank you, sir."

Jade breaks her gaze from him first, and gives me a pull towards the direction that he had indicated. I turn away from him, my eyes wide, and we're just starting to walk off when he speaks again. "One last thing, girls," he calls, and as we turn back we realize that he hasn't moved. "What are your names?"

"Uh- Rebecca," I say, glancing over at my friend. "This is Jade."

He nods at us. "Well, you girls be careful walking back there. You never know what type of animals might be wandering around these woods at night."

I nod my head again, squeezing Jade's hand as if my life depends on it. 'Yes, sir," I say again. "Thank you... for your help." The man nods once and turns away, walking back exactly the way he came, and Jade has to half-drag me away from where I stand.

"Well, thanks for letting me handle that on my own!" I exclaim once I'm finally able to speak again, which is a good two minutes later. "You could have helped a bit!"

"I wasn't saying a word!" Jade exclaims. "Who even was that guy?"

"I don't know. He just stepped out of the darkness like- like-"

"And what happened to the wolf?" Jade continues, her voice quavering slightly. "I mean, what, did he, like, chase it away or something?"

"I really don't know," I murmur, wrapping my arms around my shoulders as I shiver again- not entirely from the cold this time, either. We don't speak any more after that- I'm not sure I would be able to, and Jade is obviously half-scared out of her wits.

It takes us, just as the man had said, about another minute until we can suddenly see the blue, red, and white lights of police cars flashing in the distance. "Oh my god!" Jade exclaims shortly before taking off at a run towards the road, and I follow behind her. Once we reach the road- thankfully a bit behind most of the police cars, so anyone who actually notices us come flying out of the woods like the devil himself is on our tails doesn't really pay us much mind- we embrace tightly. I feel like crying, and for a moment I'm almost afraid that I might. I had been so sure... when I was prepared to put myself between Jade and that wolf I had been so sure that I would never get home to see my dad again. Now, surrounded by the safety of law enforcement, I feel an overwhelming sense of relief. Even though this definitely isn't where the search party began, we've still reached safety. I'm going to get to go home tonight.

Without warning Jade suddenly seems to shift gears, and she starts to shake me by the shoulders while angrily hissing in my ear, "You idiot! Oh my god, you idiot! Why do I ever listen to you? _'North_,' you said, _'we came north_.' We did _not _come North, you-"

Her words break off, and I can see that she's staring at something over my shoulder. She looks as if she's seeing a ghost. "What?" I ask, spinning around only to freeze in my tracks.

For there, stepping out of the woods, completely naked and shaking like a frightened animal, is none other than the honest-to-god Lydia Martin.

I don't speak. I physically can't. Actually, as almost all eyes in the party turn to the clearly traumatized girl, the only person who seems to have found his voice is Stiles Stilinski- what's _he _doing here?

Lydia stares back at us, her eyes shining with tears. I'm sure that she's going to break down crying right where she stands- god knows I would- but then I remember that this is Lydia Martin.

"Well," she says, her voice thick and shaky. "Is anyone going to get me a coat?"

With her words the spell seems to break, and along with the sheriff I find myself rushing forward to help her. The sheriff reaches Lydia first and wraps to coat around her shoulders, concealing her bare body, and I take her arm in mine. "Lydia, are you okay? What happened? Are you alright?"

She turns to me, her eyes wide. "I don't know," she murmurs as paramedics surround us, taking her from my arms. "I... I don't know."

**AN: Super long chapter, I know, but I couldn't find a good place to split this up! In case you couldn't tell, the guy at the end- that was Argent. Also, Erica! Erica is my baby, and I love her to death. I hope you guys are all happy and smiley and content- because it's about to go down.**

**Have a great day!**


	8. Different

I finally get to sleep around three o'clock that morning, after a long night of tossing and turning. My dad wants me to stay home from school; even though we talked about it after I got back from the search the night before and I made it extremely clear that I was by no means too traumatized to go to school and that any further attempts to convince me to do so would be met with vehement refusal, he still hadn't quite given up the point. This becomes evident to me when I'm woken up at six in the morning by my father accidentally bumping into my bed as he tries to stealthily unplug my alarm clock.

He doesn't notice that I'm awake, and his back is to me as, blinking blearily, I slowly prop myself up on my elbow, my face in my hand, and watch him. "Dad?" I ask flatly. "What are you doing?"

Dad spins around, the alarm clock still in his hands, a guilty look on his face. "Becca- I was just..."

I sigh, allowing my arm to give out and my head to flop back down to the pillow. "Dad. I'm fine!"

"Is that why I could hear you pacing around your room until almost three o'clock last night?"

My eyes, which had been gradually drifting shut, snap open. "It was adrenaline, okay? That's it."

"Yeah," Dad sighs, placing the clock on my table without plugging it back in. He sits on the edge of my bed and brushes a lock of my messy hair out of my face. "How about this, then? We go in to school late. I'll drive you there at around nine-thirty. Is that alright?"

"Don't you have to work?"

He smiles. "I don't have to go in early today, remember? You can take all the time you need."

That's right- it's Wednesday. Dad doesn't have to go into work on Wednesdays until ten. I should know that. I'm not sure whether it's lack of sleep or the events of last night that has my head so scrambled, but suddenly I decide that maybe getting in an extra few hours might not be such a bad idea. "Okay," I murmur, smiling sleepily at him. "You win."

"Great," Dad sighs, rising from my bed and patting my shoulder. Once he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him, I allow my eyes to drift shut. I don't sleep, however- the pounding of rain against the glass of my skylight distracts me. After about five minutes of trying to block it out I finally give in and turn over onto my back to stare up at the sky. It's barely light out, but I can still see each raindrop as it hits the glass, each one making it's own individual little thump as it hits before slowly sliding down the slanted window to gather at the bottom. Oddly enough, it's watching this that really enables me to sleep, and it's less than I minute before I feel myself drifting off.

When I open my eyes again my room is completely light out, and the first thing I notice is that I can no longer hear the rain falling against my window. Without it, my room seems vaguely emptier somehow, and I sigh as I push myself into a sitting position before finally dragging myself out of bed to get ready for school.

By the time Dad drops me off at school it's dangerously close to ten o'clock, and we barely have time to say goodbye before he has to rush off to work to avoid being late. I get to my locker just in time for the bell to ring signaling the end of third period, and by the time the next bell rolls around I've gotten to Algebra and taken my usual seat next to Jade.

"You!" She exclaims, her eyes widening when she spots me. "I thought you weren't coming today!"

"My dad made me stay home a bit," I explain, smiling apologetically. "I hardly slept at all last night."

"I slept surprisingly well," she comments with a rather self-satisfied smile. "Better than I have been recently, I mean."

Algebra, as usual, is awful. Jade tries to help me a bit, but the end of class finds me staring down at my paper and the numbers that she's inscribed there in utter bewilderment. Again, nothing new.

It's in History class next period- as it has been, recently- that things really get interesting.

Somehow I manage to get there before Isaac. That's the first odd thing- I never get to class before Isaac, so that should have told me that something unusual was going on right there. However, I simply write it off as him running late- nothing to be concerned about.

He slides into his seat just as the bell rings. I, preoccupied as I am with flipping open my notebook to a blank page, don't actually look up until he speaks. And when I do look at him, I completely freeze.

I'm not looking at Isaac. Actually, I don't know who I'm looking at, but it isn't Isaac- it can't be. Isaac doesn't look like this.

The boy sitting next to me has the face of Isaac, the voice of Isaac, and the wry little smirk of Isaac... but there is no way that he can possibly be Isaac. From the day I first me Isaac, he's always worn hoodies- grey hoodies, blue hoodies, black hoodies, things that didn't attract much notice and, if required, he could easily hide away in. This Isaac is wearing a blue shirt- a bright, pure blue shirt with thin black stripes through it, a shirt that reveals his collarbone and lower arms. That isn't the first thing that catches my eye, however- no, the first thing I notice about this Isaac is his face. Isaac, unlike a lot of kids at our school, has never really had any acne- at least, not that I've seen. But he had the usual mars, little marks on his face, scratches, stuff like that; day to day stuff. Not to mention his bruises, his big, painful looking bruises that marred his skin, glaringly obvious whenever he chose to reveal his face. But this Isaac's face is completely _clear_, and that's the shocking thing because only _yesterday _he had looked like he came out of the wrong side of a fight with Rocky.

"So," he says casually, "you finally got here. I was starting to get worried."

"I- I-" My tongue feels heavy in my mouth, and I find myself incapable of getting an actual sentence out. "Needed sleep," I say lamely, still staring at him. "Dad kept me home."

"Oh," he nods. "That's good, then. I was just sort of worried." He laughs lightly. "I mean, no one wants you to go disappearing like Lydia." I nod my head weakly. "Did you hear they found her last night?"

"Yeah, I - I was there."

His head turns towards me and his eyes- his eyes, those same big crystal blue beautiful eyes, which are so irrevocably _Isaac_- fix on me incredulously. "You were?"

"Yeah. Jade and I..." I can no longer refrain from saying it. It's the elephant in the room here, and he knows it just as well as I do. "Isaac, you look... different."

He shrugs innocently, running a hand through his hair. "I do?"

_Liar_. He knows. "Yeah- you do."

He smirks at me, and I feel my heart give an unexpected jump. "Is that a... good different, or a bad different?"

"I- I- a good different." His smirk widens into a full grin, and I mentally curse myself. What's wrong with me? Why am I suddenly incapable of speaking to him- to _Isaac_?

"Great," he says, biting the inside of his lip, and suddenly I see a flash of something in him- a flash of the Isaac I'm familiar with, the awkward, quiet one. It isn't his face that betrays him but his eyes- a nervous little glint that seems to flicker through his eyes for just a moment before vanishing. I recognize that, and I recognize it because I've seen it before. Seen it when-

Oh my god. He isn't.

"It's great that you think that, Rebecca," Isaac says, "because I was actually wondering if this Friday you'd want to go out with me."

He did. Oh my god, he did, he _so did. _I knew that he was going to ask me out from the second I saw that look in his eyes, because it's the exact same look that he had when he invited me to the formal. And he _did_.

"I- I-"

If he had asked this any other time- Friday afternoon or Monday or even yesterday- I would have said yes. While honestly I hadn't given much thought to Isaac liking me- there had been so much on my mind recently that I never really got the chance- and I definitely hadn't decided if I really reciprocated his feeling at all or not, I genuinely don't think that if he had asked me out I would have said no. But that was the old Isaac.

The Isaac in front of me right now is different. He's so much more confident in himself, in his appearance, in everything about himself. He smirks, he chats, and he just acts so... different from the Isaac I've come to know. And honestly, I really don't know if I like it or not.

"Yes." The word comes out before I can even think about it, and the way his face absolutely lights up- completely, openly lights up, just like the Isaac I've become familiar with- only reassures me that I've made the right choice.

"Great!" He grins, looking almost ridiculously overjoyed. "I mean- great! We can go out for dinner or something- would you like that?"

"Yeah," I reply just as brightly, a grin forming on my own face as I realize exactly what I've just done- I've made a date. I have an actual, real date, all on my own with a boy who actually likes me- for the first time ever. "I'd love that!"

For the rest of the class- for the rest of the day, actually- Isaac acts completely normal. And when I say normal, I mean the way he was last week, before the whole formal debacle; and it's really, really nice. I didn't realize it, but ever since Monday I'd sort of been feeling as if I'd lost my friend, and having Isaac back- and taking me on a date Friday night (!)- just makes me feel really, really great.

That afternoon I ride home with Jade again. While we don't end up picking up any stray Isaacs this time, I do tell her about the date that we've arranged- and about Isaac's strange behavior.

"So, you're saying that he just looked completely flawless today?"

"Well, I- uh- yeah, kind of. I mean-"

"And he was acting so confident that he actually asked you out?"

"Again."

"Asked you out _again_- and I can't believe you didn't tell me about that by the way, I mean, seriously, what type of best friend are you- and you said yes?"

"Yeah. That's pretty much it."

Jade sighs, leaning back against her seat. "I can come up with three explanations- either he's on drugs, has somehow gotten really good with makeup, or he's solicited a witch. Take your pick."

I roll my eyes. "Well, he isn't a witch, so that rules that one out. He's not good with makeup, as far as I can tell- he couldn't possibly have been wearing any-"

"He could be really, really good with makeup..." Jade sing-songs.

"He's not wearing makeup!"

"So, he's on drugs?"

"No! I mean- well..." I trial off, my brow furrowing. "I don't know, alright?"

Jade tilts her head, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, that's a maybe on the drugs..."

"I don't know what he does in his spare time, okay? I really, really don't think Isaac is on drugs."

Honestly, I have no idea _what's _up with Isaac. He's not doing drugs and he isn't wearing makeup, but something has changed- something big, something that's given him an unprecedented boost of confidence and has just overall changed him. I'm not even sure how it can be possible for someone to change so much in the space of a single night, but somehow Isaac has managed it.

I bite my lip, crossing my arms and leaning back in my seat. Maybe the witchcraft theory isn't so far off after all...

xXxXxXxXx

The next day, Isaac's bizarre behavior takes a turn for the worse. Gone is the light t-shirt; black hoodies are back in style now, and apparently so is sitting stiffly at your desk, looking for all the world like you just saw a puppy get run over by a steamroller.

You know, at this rate I'm going to start getting whiplash, and when I do the only person I'll have to blame will be Isaac Lahey.

"Isaac?" I ask as I take my seat. Isaac barely even glances at me. "What's wrong, what the matter?"

"Nothing," he replies, his voice sounding empty. There are dark circles under his eyes- not black eyes, but as if he didn't sleep all night. He's pale as death and he looks, quite frankly, sick. "Nothing's wrong, Rebecca. It's fine."

I raise my eyebrows. I know about the dangers of pushing him, but I can tell that something has gone seriously awry. "Isaac, just tell me."

"Nothing," he murmurs, more forcefully this time, his brow furrowing, and purse my lips.

"Look," I say, tentatively placing my hand lightly on his own. His entire body goes stiff. "I'm the last person who's going to push you here, but if you're in some sort of trouble I might be able to help..." I trail off, searching his face for something- anything- that might give me an indication of what's going on. Instead he only shoots me a pained glance and pulls his hand away from mine. This action, more than anything else, hits me like a slap to the face and I draw my own hand back, frowning.

"No," he murmurs, hunching over at his desk and shaking his head. "You- there is something wrong, but I really can't talk about it because I don't want to worry you and there really is nothing that you can do to help. Thank you," he adds almost as an afterthought, "but you can't help."

"Isaac-" I say, and the lump in my throat cuts off any other words I might say. It doesn't matter, though. Isaac's turned back to the teacher and it's very clear that he doesn't want to talk anymore. He's right. There isn't anything I can do for him, especially if he won't let me try to help.

xXxXxXx

"I want to go watch lacrosse practice today," I announce suddenly, grabbing Jade's arm just as she's about to walk into the Algebra classroom. My best friend spins on me, her eyebrows raised incredulously.

"Seriously? I mean- you actually want to ditch class and go watch lacrosse?"

I shrug. "Yeah, sure."

"Why?"

"Why not?" I retort. "I just thought... it sounded sort of interesting." I don't mention that the majority of my sudden interest in lacrosse comes from Isaac and the enthusiastic way he'd spoken of it yesterday; Jade doesn't need to know that. "What do you say? You want to?"

Jade casts one slightly uneasy glance over her shoulder at the Algebra classroom before sighing and turning towards me, a resolute look on her face. "You know? Why not?"

I grin at her, and she quickly takes the lead as we walk away from the classroom.

xXxXxXx

Aside from the team, there are very few people watching practice- not that I really expected it to be much of a crowd. Besides Jade and I, it seems as if there are only two or three others- either people with a free period right now or those, like us, who've just plain ditched. Some other people mill around the outskirts of the field, obviously not caring about lacrosse in the slightest. My attention, however, is one the team- or, more specifically, on that head of dark blond curls I see sitting separate from most of the other players on the bleachers, not seeming to notice my presence as he stares at the helmet in his lap.

"I still don't get why you wanted to see a lacrosse practice all of a sudden," Jade comments as we take our seats on the bleachers. I shrug my shoulders, pulling my dark coat tighter around me.

"I don't know. Just thought it might be fun."

"You're weird, Bec." Jade shakes her head, leaning back against the bleachers in a way that I can't help but think looks terribly uncomfortable, although she doesn't seem bothered by it in the slightest.

Suddenly I'm startled by a shrill whistle, and I turn my head to see Coach Finstock waving towards his players. "Let's go!" he calls. "Line it up!"

The team quickly seems to gather together, players seeming to come from every angle of the field at once, and they form a line in the middle of the field. I keep my eyes on Isaac as he slips his helmet over his head and joins the middle of the line.

"Hey," Jade gasps suddenly, waving to someone on the field. "There's Kyle!"

"Cool," I mutter absently, still watching Isaac as Jade calls out a greeting to one of the players on the team- one whom I would assume would be Kyle, even though his mask is obscuring his face.

"Make daddy proud!" I hear Coach Finstock order before he blows his whistle once again, the shrill sound making me wince, and then throws out a ball. The first player immediately rushes forward to catch it and begins running towards the goal.

"What's that guy's name?" Jade asks, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. "I should know, cause I'm pretty sure he's in my- _holy crap_!"

"What?" I exclaim, glancing up quickly from my fingernails to see the player who had just been running seconds ago now lying on the ground with a Scott McCall shaped lump on op of him. "What? What happened?"

"McCall just freaking- divetackled No-Name!" Jade exclaims, her brows furrowed in incredulity, and I raise an eyebrow.

"I thought McCall was playing goal? Can he even do that?"

"He is," Jade retorts, leaning forward as McCall quickly returns to his position at the goal. "And no, he can't." Coach blows his whistle again, and another player rushes forward.

"That one's Matt," Jade murmurs, her eyes fixed intently on McCall. "He's in our Algeb-"

"Holy shhhh-!" I exclaim, startling even myself as Scott McCall slams into Matt's legs, sending him head-over-heels into the ground.

"And, Matt's flying," Jade remarks dryly just before Matt lands on the ground with a loud, pronounced thud and a grunt.

"Is he- is McCall sniffing him?"

"I don't _know_, man," Jade murmurs, watching intently as Finstock sternly sends Scott back to his post and Matt rather-painfully staggers to the bleachers. The whistle blows again.

"Oh, no," I murmur, my eyes widening as I recognize the number on the next player's jersey. "That's not-"

"Kyle," Jade confirms grimly, her dark eyes wide with what I can only assume to be morbid fascination. What follows is predictable- Kyle takes the ball and starts running before McCall streaks out of his goal and slams into him, sending him airborne.

"Ooh- ohh, noooo- oh wow, nice formation," Jade murmurs as Kyle hits the dirt hard. I elbow her sharply in the ribs and she turns to me, shrugging. "What?"

"That looked like it hurt," I comment, rising from my spot and descending the bleachers just in time to meet Kyle as he limps to the bleachers. "Hey," I greet, frowning. "You- you alright there?"

Kyle blinks at me through his mask, looking dazed. "Rebecca?"

"Yeah," I murmur frowning. "That looked pretty painful."

"Is it lunchtime already?" Kyle asks as if he didn't even hear me, and my eyes widen a bit more.

"Umm, not quite," I reply lightly, helping him sit down on the bench. As Jade comes down to join us, I pat him gently on the back. "I came to see lacrosse practice today."

Kyle blinks blearily, his eyes unfocused. "You came... you came to see me?"

"Uhh... yeah. I came and I saw you. You were really good." Jade sits down next to me, shooting me a bewildered look.

"Nice flip," she comments lightly to Kyle, who simply shakes his head in response, mumbling something under his breath which I can't quite pick up, but does sound to be along the lines of something involving Scott McCall and trucks. I shoot Jade a harsh glare.

"This isn't very funny."

"Never said it was funny," she replies with a shrug. "Just interesting, is all. They aren't dead, yet."

I frown at her. "You know, I worry about you sometimes."

She shrugs. "So do I, trust me."

I'm pulled back to the scene in front of me when Coach Finstock blows the whistle again. This time, Danny Mahealani is the one being offered up, and quite predictably, Danny ends up on the ground.

"Is he... trying to kill someone?" I ask, squinting at McCall to try and see if I can catch a glimpse of his face through his mask.

"Yes," Kyle replies almost immediately in response, at the exact same time as Jade retorts, "Most likely."

"Well," I mutter, nodding. "Okay, then."

"Where the heck is Jackson going?" Jade exclaims suddenly, and I realize that Jackson is quickly making his way towards the other bench. "The rat," Jade hisses, realizing at the same time I do that he must have figured out a way out of playing somehow. The boy now at the front of the line stands with his head down, his shoulders heaving, but I still recognize the identity of the tall boy under the mask.

"Oh god," I murmur, burying my face in my hands. "It's Isaac. I can't look."

"It's okay," Jade replies. "I'll look for you."

I hear the whistle, and I unwillingly peek through my fingers in time to see Isaac catch the ball and take off at a full sprint towards McCall. Like every other time, McCall charges straight towards him, and everything seems like it's going in slow-motion. I can see dirt fly underneath their sneakers. I see Isaac's chest heaving, I see McCall brace himself for impact again, I see Isaac's head go down as he rushes to meet him- and then I don't see anything else, because I hide behind my hands again, but I hear Jade's sharp intake of breath, and the small "ooh," she makes. I hear the two thumps on the ground as both boys land, and I wince.

"You can look now," Jade murmurs, and I shake my head.

"Is Isaac dead?"

"Don't know. Can't tell- oh, no, he's moving. He's fine, look."

I pull away my hands to see Isaac on his hands and knees on the ground, panting as he faces Scott "Looks like he threw McCall for a good one, too," Jade observes dryly, but I'm not focusing on her words. I'm focusing on Isaac's face, and for some reason an odd glint of gold against the metal of his mask catches my eye. I frown, squinting as I lean closer to try and get a better look, and I can almost see his face- but then the whistle sounds and whatever I may or may not have been seeing vanishes.

"Hey," I hear Kyle say suddenly, and when I turn to him he's staring at something over his shoulder. "Who are those guys?"

"Who?" Jade inquires, leaning forward. As I watch, her eyes widen in shock.

"Like, oh my god," she breathes, and I frown as I lean over to get a good look as well. What I see makes my heart stop. "It's the sheriff."

xXxXxXx

They're here for Isaac.

I don't believe it at first, when I hear them say that they're looking for Isaac Lahey. But as I watch them from the middle of the field, among a throng of onlookers, as Sheriff Stilinski speaks intently to Isaac about something, I can't deny it.

"You don't know what it is," Jade speaks up next to me, clearly trying to make me feel better. "It could be just... a parking ticket or whatever."

"Isaac rides a bike. And the police wouldn't show up at school for a _parking ticket_."

I cross my arms, my brow furrowed as I stare at Isaac. His face is grim; he looks just like he did when I saw him in class this morning, or maybe even worse. I knew something was wrong then. I ought to have pressed him. Then maybe I would know what's going on.

Jade places a hand on my shoulder. "Come on," she murmurs, her voice quiet. "We need to get back to class."

I turn towards her, raising my eyebrows. I would have sworn that she would love nothing more than to investigate this brand new piece of gossip, but instead her face is solemn. "Seriously," she whispers. "Let's go."

"But-" I begin to say, but cut myself off when I glance over my shoulder. Isaac is looking directly at me.

For a second our eyes lock, and I take that moment to try and convey all of the questions I have; what's the matter? What happened? What do the police want? I can't be sure if he understands, but he simply shoots me a pained look. I think he tries to mouth something at me, but I don't catch it. Jade squeezes my shoulder a bit tighter, and begins to lead me away.

"Come _on, _Becca. Just trust me. You don't want to be here."

"But I-"

"I had a nightmare like this, once," Jade cuts me off. "Your reaction- just trust me, you don't want to be here."

I glance over my shoulder again, hoping to catch Isaac's eye once more- but he's already turned back to the Sherriff. Reluctantly, I allow myself to be led back into the school by Jade.

xXxXxXx

When I get to my lunch table that day, I'm greeted with utter silence.

"Uhh..." I say as I cautiously take my seat, glancing around at the row of wide-eyed faces in front of me. "Everything okay?" Self-consciously, I reach up to pat my hair down. I know it probably isn't anything, but with the entire table staring at me as if I've just sprouted a set of wings, it's hard not to feel a bit awkward.

For a moment there is a long, heavy silence, and I'm almost sure that no one is going to dare to speak at all. Everyone, even Jade and Holly, seem to be staring at me like I'm some sort of hell-beast; wide-eyed, gape-mouthed, and all glancing at each other as if urging the person next to them to take the leap and speak first.

It's Kyle, however, who eventually breaks the silence. "You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?" I ask, my voice quiet. I figure that I can probably deduce everything solely from the looks on their faces- it's Isaac, it has to be. But I don't want to believe it. It can't be true. Isaac could never do anything worth getting arrested over... could he?

However, Kyle has fallen silent again, and it's another minute before anyone else dares to speak up. "It was Isaac," Holly says softly, not meeting my eye. "He was arrested today."

My heart stops and my lungs freeze up. For a moment, I can't breathe. They're wrong. They've all got to be wrong.

"No," I murmur, shaking my head slowly. "No, no, you're- why? For what?"

"It happened during lacrosse practice," Averie puts in, only telling me what I already know. "They're saying-" Suddenly she stops herself. It seems that whatever this news is, it's too awful for even Averie to want to talk about- or, at least, not around me.

All eyes at the table simultaneously shift to Jade, silently electing her, and she sighs heavily. "Becca," she whispers, placing a hand on my shoulder which I hardly feel, "the police are saying that Isaac killed his father last night."

I feel my breath hitch in my throat, and tears suddenly threaten to spill over the corners of my eyes. Isaac- arrested for killing his own father. It doesn't seem real to me; it just seems like another horrible rumor made up by Averie. But when I think about his face today- those sad, haunted eyes, that empty expression, the pain in his eyes when he looked at me while talking to the sheriff- everything suddenly seems to make a lot more sense. "You- you're wrong," I say, still shaking my head as I rise from my seat. "You're- you're completely wrong. There's no way- I- I- I don't believe you."

"We're only telling you what they're saying."

"Killed his father?" I echo. "I- I mean- he wouldn't."

"Sometimes you just don't know people as well as you think," Holly says quietly.

"I can't..." I murmur, my hands shaking. I don't finish the sentence; I don't even know what I intended to say. _"I can't breathe? I can't believe it? I can't eat anymore?"_ They would all be true.

"It's okay," Jade murmurs, resting her head against my shoulder. "Just because he was taken in doesn't mean he's guilty. Everything will be okay."

I'm still shaking my head, and I realize that I can't seem to stop. I feel sick. I'm not sure whether I want to cry or pass out or throw up- probably all three- but I realize that I can't stay here. I need to get out. I need to go... home. I need to breathe, because I feel like I'm drowning. I need to get back home.

I rise from my seat, and that's when I realize that it isn't just my head that's shaking- it's my whole body. "I need to go home," I announce breathlessly. "I can't- I've got to..." I trail off as I slowly realize that going home isn't an option. I can't call my dad and drag him away from his work, and I can't just walk out of the school. I'm stuck here. Suddenly the room seems to tilt on it's axis, and I'm sure I'm going to pass out.

"Whoa- okay, okay, hey. I've got you."

I feel strong arms wrap around my shoulders, and I recognize the smell of cinnamon and Old Spice as one I'm not entirely unfamiliar with- Kyle. He's leading me out of the cafeteria, and even though my eyes are closed as we walk, the click-clack noises that follow us tell me that Jade is with us as well- and wearing her favorite pair of heels.

I don't open my eyes until I feel Kyle push me down to sit on the floor, and when I do I immediately recognize the rows of bookshelves concealing us as being part of the library. We're in a sort of nook at the very back of the library, one I've never noticed before. It's dark here- and quiet, very quiet.

"Here," Kyle says, his voice gentle. "You can stay here for as long as you need. If you want to stay here for the rest of the day, that's fine too- it's only two more classes."

"Thanks, Ky," I hear Jade's voice say, but I barely register what I'm hearing anymore. I keep seeing Isaac- Isaac's face, Isaac crying, Isaac's tormented crystal eyes, Isaac's hands covered in his father's blood- and I struggle to breathe.

"Tell her-" Kyle's voice breaks off slightly, but he regains his cool. "Tell her I hope she'll be okay."

I'm aware of Jade staying with me after that. She stays with me for as long as I sit there, right next to me on the ground, encouraging me to breathe when I find myself forgetting how to. She talks to me- little, senseless stories about her siblings and about us, and I find comfort in her voice because it reminds me that I'm sitting here with her and keeps me from drifting off entirely. I don't know how long it is until I'm finally able to breathe normally and no longer see Isaac's bloodied hands in my head, but once I am free of my mind's torment I simply lean my head against her shoulders and cry. I cry for the boy I thought I knew. I cry for the boy I had thought could never hurt a fly. I cry for the boy whom I had fooled myself into believing liked me. And I cry for myself- for my stupid, stupid self- for allowing myself to maybe start to like him a little bit back.

I cry until the final bell rings signaling the end of the day, and even then I find that I'm not able to stop. How weak I am; how utterly, utterly foolish.


End file.
